Mediocre might perhaps be a generous assessment of the following poem. Maybe someday I'll get bored enough to invest more time and make it "clever." Here it is...
Started Calvin Hill when I was only three
Twenty years later I was swingin’ Calhoun’s tree
Old Eli Yale looked down on me with pride
That was back before I took my two-hour ride
I left home for five years and now I can’t get back
Ma won’t look on someone who went down that track
At the last annual game, my folks kept seein’ red
‘Cause I went to Boston and got a Ph.D. there instead
I used to eat at Pepe’s though some believe in Sal’s
Just got a ticket on Wooster Street from some of Pepe’s pals
No bones about my secret and the skulls are kinda mad
I’d go on and tell you more if this poem weren’t so bad
