(Whatever voice you choose my woolly friend)
Tick... tick... tick...
The game is over and somehow I don't feel sick?
Could it be the costumes of the Brisquet Broad chick's
Or the video from they that was oh so sick
Could it be the Donkey ass that the Chefs did lick
Or perhaps the Lions fan that's shitting a brick
And sure to be humping a Faiders fans chick
Once is concluded their Monday night's schtict
Still I ask why, why tonight's win did not click
Was it the field goals of the man named Dick
er Nay, nay I say you pompous prick
It's a question I'll ask and ask it quick...
(Clears throat)
Why oh why, once our wins been picked
Won't our coach take heed and quietly stick
The man of said name, that being Stick
Into the game so he may play real quick
Whilst keeping our Herb from getting new nics
I say let this Stick play ball real quick
And watch him move beyond the sticks
Let us see if he can't score a surprise quick six
Then let thine player who's named of the Dick's
Complete his glorious day of sweet sweet kicks
Whilest our hero's massaged well on his Nic's and his cricks
And let him be prepared for the New Jersey hicks
Oh yeah, Family, Trust, Respicts
Big Red Bolsfan