Twas the night before Ducksmas, and try as they might
Not a duck fan was stirring, not even Jtlight.
The jerseys were hung by the lockers with care,
In hopes that an Alamo Bowl trophy soon would be there.
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of touchdowns danced in their heads.
And Daisy in her visor, and I in my cap,
Had just Google'd our search for a bowl game trip's map.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a pass,
as if someone replaced the fieldturf with grass.
The moon on the breast of the Riverwalk glow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Volkswagen Bus, and eight kegs of beer.
With a little thin driver, with media lark,
I knew in a moment it must be St Mark.
More rapid than longhorns his allies they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now BJ! now, Avery! now, Byron and Arik!
On, Marcus! On, Ifo! On T-Mitch and Derrick!
To the left of the line! to the right of the read!
Now dash away! Dash away! To the endzone with speed!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, a reverse they would try
So down to the endzone the allies they flew,
With their arms full of footballs, and St Mark's smile too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the net
An ATQ practice report, a formation offset.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Mark came with a bound.
He was dressed all in green, from ballcap to shoes,
And his clothes were from Nike all new tech breakthroughs.
A bundle of gameplans he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a scientist, accepting no setback.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his smile how merry!
His arms were like tree trunks, opponents be wary!
His droll little sarcasm was drawn up by his dad,
To fend off Canzano and his recording doodad.
Injury reports he held tight to his hip.
"He's out of his mind!" The reporters would quip.
He had a thin face and had come from the Cas,
Where he had just finished gameplanning at last.
The offensive genius was here in my house,
I couldn't believe it, I yelled for my spouse!
A wink of his eye and a view of his playcard,
Soon gave me to know, I would follow my vanguard.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And diagrammed all the plays, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his cheek,
The bowl game he would win, a Texas defeat we would seek!
He sprang to his Volkswagen, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove with his stars,
"Happy Ducksmas to all, and an Alamo Bowl victory will be ours!"