‘Twas the night before the national championship, when all through Title Town,
Not a Husky was stirring, no buckeyes making a sound;
Saint Nick was planning out the game with care,
In hopes that number 17 soon would be there;
The students were nestled all snug in their dorms,
While visions of another title were just part of the norms,
And they in their orange, and we in our crimson,
Had just prepared our brains for another new trophy that would glisten-
When out on the quad there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bunk bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen Alabama snow,
When I saw the Million Dollar Band practicing for their last big show;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Big Al and the Crimsonettes, true and clear,
With a little old coach, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than tigers his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them by name:
“Now! Hurts, now! Ridley, now! Howard, and ArDarius,
“On! Allen, on! Scarbrough, on! Foster and Harris;
“To the top of the end zone! to the top of the play!
“Now dash away! dash away! dash away and obey”
He was dress’d all in houndstooth, from his head to his foot,
And their jerseys were in lockers, all ready and put;
A bundle of balls were flung on his back,
And he look’d like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a crimson cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
They asked if he was nervous and he responded “no”;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Saban gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fulfilled all the plans; then turn’d with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, at the plays he chose.
He sprung to his clipboard, to his team gave a dismissal,
And away they all ran, at the sound of the whistle:
But I heard him exclaim, as he sprinted out of sight-
Happy national championship to all, and to all a good night
(and don't forget Dixieland Delight.)
