When They Said “Super Tuesday”, I Thought They Meant They’d Moved the Game from Sunday
I watch one football game a year –
That “Super Bowl” affair –
And shout and yell and cry and cheer,
Though I don’t know one player.
Well, guess I’ve heard of one or two,
Whose names their fans all love;
But no idea what they’ll do
When push has come to shove.
That Brady fella – what’s he do?
He stands there so defiant;
His line won’t let nobody through—
Except, perhaps, a Giant.
And Eli – when’d he get so good?
His brother must be jealous
And think that he himself, too, should
Be there with his Colt fellas.
Will New England finish nineteen-zero
And end up rich and famouth?
Or will plucky Giants find a hero
It’ll all come out before my eyes
In Sunday’s Super show,
On a field I don’t recognize
By players I don’t know.
Cuz weekly football I don’t see,
Because I’m just not able.
OK. It’s cuz we’ve no TV.
(Well really, just no cable.)