'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Sooner land,
Everyone was worried about a certain left hand.
The shoulder pads were hung in the locker with care,
In hopes the BCS Championship soon would be there.
The offensive line was pushing the blocking sled,
While visions of touchdowns danced in their heads.
K. Wilson in the booth wonders counter or trap,
It really doesn’t matter with fullback Matt Clapp.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
The Sooners just scored using the ol’ hook and ladder.
Away down the field runs Broyles in a flash,
Making the defense look like they’re drinking sour mash.
Boomer and Sooner make the schooner go,
Ruffnecks driving, flag waving, and some in tow.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
The offense lines up in the wishbone, like teams of yesteryear.
With little Jimmy Stevens, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment we’d score with a kick.
More rapid than eagles the defense they came,
The fans whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Go Harris, go Holmes! now, Lewis and Jackson!
On, Franks! on McCoy! on, English to action!
To the top of the polls! To the top of them all!
The Big XII conference will always stand tall!"
The receivers as fast as a wild hurricane, fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the goal line the receivers they flew,
Too many for the defense, nothing could they do.
And then, on TV, as I watched live,
Sam Bradford got the Sooners, Heisman No. 5.
Thank God for Stoops, he turned us around,
As three times before, we’re championship bound!
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