Hey Domers - Nevermore!

Once upon a BCS meeting, while they pondered with ale and good eating,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While the Domers prodded, with no fear of napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at their chamber door.
'Tis some visitor,' they muttered, `tapping at our chamber door
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly they were very wary to remember it was bleak in January,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
As their players fell and wished the morrow; - vainly had they sought to borrow
From trumped up glory reaped much sorrow - sorrow for their lost yore -
For the rare and radiant victory whom their champions sought for -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the sad uncertain rustling of each crimson curtain
Thrilled them - filled them with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still their beating heart, they stood repeating
'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

`Bama,' said they, `or Tide, truly your forgiveness we implore;
But the fact is we weren't napping, as you came rapping,
And then came tapping, tapping at our chamber door,
We were sure we heard you' - here we opened wide the door; -
Darkness and crimson there, and nothing more.

Deep into that color peering, long we stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the crimson gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `nevermore!'
Then we whispered in question back and an echo murmured the word, `nevermore?'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into their chamber turning, all their souls constantly churning,
Soon again they heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' they said, `there is something at our chamber door;
Let us see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let our heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here they flung the door open, when, with many a look and a feeling quite sullen,
In there stepped an imposing mammoth of the days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, stood within their chamber door -
Stood, gazed, and nothing more.

Then this ivory mammoth sent their sad fancy spiraling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy tusks be huge and your gaze graven,' they said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient, walking defiantly through our door -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the BCS Night's Miami shore!'
Quoth the mammoth, `Nevermore.'

Much they marveled at this pachyderm to hear its discourse so plainly,
Though its answer had much meaning - much relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was cursed with seeing such a mammoth breach their chamber door -
Offering only a single word - such a term as `Nevermore.'

But the mammoth, stood their intently knowing, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in one word was outpouring.
Nothing further did he utter - not another word did he mutter -
They replied 'On the morrow he will leave us, and this nightmare over.'
Until once again the mammoth interrupted and said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' they said, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy memory which has caused a blemish in its history
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the mammoth still beguiling and their sad soul started crying,
Straight they wheeled some cushioned seats in front of mammoth in the door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, they betook themselves to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous mammoth of yore -
What this grim, ghastly, ivory, and ominous pachyderm of yore
Meant in uttering `Nevermore.'

This they sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fiery eyes now burned into their bosom's core;
This and more they sat divining, with their heads ill-at-ease, not reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
We shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, they thought, the air grew denser, filled from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls walked on their tufted floor.
`Wretch,' they cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of lore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this loss from past seasons they implored!'
Quoth the mammoth, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said they, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if elephant or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this stadium by horror haunted - tell me truly, they implored -
Is there - is there victory in Miami? - tell me - tell me, they implored!'
Quoth the mammoth, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said they, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if elephant or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell our soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant ages,
We shall grasp this victory as in meetings past -
Shall we hold the crystal ball, a rare trophy coveted by all, something we have sought on this shore?'
Quoth the mammoth, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, elephant or fiend!' they shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and far from the Miami shore!
Leave no black mark on our season as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave our streak unbroken! - leave our chambers and exit our door!
Take thy tusks from out our heart, and have pity on us so we can soar!'
Quoth the mammoth, `Nevermore.'

And the mammoth, never moving, still sitting, still looming
In their golden chambers, just within their door;
And his eyes had all the seeming of a victor's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And their souls from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Roll Tide!

FanPosts are just that; posts created by the fans. They are in no way indicative of the opinions of SBN and the authors of Roll Bama Roll.

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