The Destruction of the Corn Dogs

An epic poem, suitably updated for the enjoyment of all.

The Destruction of the Corn Dogs
by Jacknola (with help from Lord Byron)

The corn dogs came down like the wolf on the fold
And their tee shirts were gleaming in purple and gold
And the sheen of their flasks were like stars on the sea
When the tide rolls bi-yearly on the Mis-sis-sip-pi.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when November hath blown
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Tua spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the tigers he passed;
And the eyes of the corn dogs waxed deadly and chill,
And their hopes but once leaped, then forever grew still!

And there lay the tiger with his nostrils all wide,
But through it there rolled no raving or pride;
And the foam of his hopes lay white on the turf
As cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the fans ranting and pale,
With melt on their brow, and red on their tail:
And the tailgates were silent, the banners alone,
Bad whiskey unlifted, their bravado unknown.

And the second place corn dogs are loud in their wail,
The refs they cheated they rant and they yell;
And the might of the corndogs, unsmote by the sword;
Hath melted like snow front of Saban, their Lord.