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A Poem For Draft Day

| April 28th, 2011

When the evening finds us at pick twenty-nine
Select then a player for the offensive line

As pressure does mount, these choices seem hard
So find thee a tackle, a center, or guard

For Kreutz hath been the roots of this unit since Dick
But Olin’s now rollin’ to the retirement shtick.
7-3’s a mountain, either a mountain or hill
But a mountain’s no good with no position to fill

The young kid from Vandy hath not been so dandy
Moving around like a beagle in heat
Frank often stank though the pundits thought him handy
I saw him struggle to keep 6 on his feet

Roberto.
Does anybody ever write about Roberto?

So when the evening finds us at pick twenty-nine
Select then a player for the offensive line

Austin the Tarheel, that wideout from Pitt
May be great players, may be the shit
But one thing’s for certain, or I could be insaney
Without offensive linemen
Get used to Caleb Hanie

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