Little apple, I cannot raise a tree
anywhere but in you! Nor dress the boughs
in shades but purple and white, which sows
shall flee at Cotton Bowl of AT&T!
O, ‘ville! I cannot drink ‘nog or cider,
nor raise my cold and frothy yuletide stein
to hail any Heisman but Collin Klein,
nor toast any coach but Scheme Doc Snyder!
On the day Christ was born from virgin womb
I cannot sing, “Fa! La! La! La! La! La! La!”
Lest I shout, “Glory to God—for EMAW!”
And “God bless us all with Frank and Doom!”
I’d like to give Jesus a birthday cake!
And eat it with elves named Denis and Jake!