'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE FOOTBALL,

<p style="color:rgb(20,24,35);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">when all through the house;

Not a creature was stirring, 'cept left clicks on my mouse.

The fantasy lineup was hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Julius Thomas will soon be there,

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of Blake Bortles danced in their heads.
And Mama in her jersey and me in my cap, we just settled our wagers before Tinker's long snap,

When out on the field, there rose such a clatter, I hurried to EverBank to see what was the matter,

Away to the press box I flew like a flash, tore open the door, and misplaced my stash,

The moon on the breast of the new chosen Roar,

Gave the lustre of midday to the cheerleaders I adore,

When what to my wandering eyes should appear, but a huge yellow cat and 53 players I hold dear,

And a pot bellied man putting up such a fuss,

I knew in an instant - that must be coach Gus.

More rapid than Eagles, his players they came,

Gus whistled and shouted and called them by name.

Now Blake! Now 'Cedes!

Now Yelden! Now Marks!

On Cyprien! On Colvin!

On Odrick, you start!!

To the top of the division, To the top of the game!

Now dash away Carolina! Dash them all, make our name!!!


Go Jags!!


 

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