Twas the Night Before Christmas, Clemson style


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Twas the Night Before Christmas, Clemson style

CLEMSON - Happy Holidays to everybody from the staff here at TigerNet. As you enjoy this Christmas Eve, hopefully surrounded by friends and family, please enjoy this Clemson-style version of the old Christmas poem.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the WestZone

Not a creature was stirring, not even Fred Cone;

The helmets were hung in the lockers with care,

In hopes that the playoff soon would be there;

The players were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of championships danced in their heads;

And Kathleen with her kerchief and Dabo with his cap,

Had just settled their brains for a long winter's nap,

When out on the field there arose such a clatter,

Dabo sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window he flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the end zone aglow,

Gave a luster of midday to objects below,

When what to his wondering eyes did he spy,

But an old Chevy pickup and eight snarling cats that could fly

With a big old driver so lively and canny

Dabo knew in a moment he must be Coach Danny

More rapid than Eagles his Tigers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, CJ! now, Jacoby! now Homer and Sammy!

On, Steve! on, Nuk! on, Vic and The Fridge!

To the back of the endzone, and across the goal line

Now score those points and win it by nine!

As leaves during the season tend to fly

When they meet with a tailgater and mount to the sky;

So up to the stadium top the Tigers they flew

With the truck full of wins, and Danny Ford too—

And then, in a twinkling, Dabo listened in awe

To the scratching and clawing of each big old paw

As he drew in his head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney Danny came with a bound.

He was dressed in overalls, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with dirt and with soot;

A bundle of footballs he had flung on his back,

And he looked 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 cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

His beard turning white as the new fallen snow;

The odor of Red Man came from his teeth,

And the aura of a winner encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a soft southern drawl

That made people smile when he stood up so tall.

He was gnarled and funny, a right jolly old coach,

And Dabo laughed when he saw him, a coach with no reproach

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave Dabo to know he had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the roof top he rose;

He sprang to his truck, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the sound of Ron Cherry’s whistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all Tigers good night!”

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