THE FOOTBALL TEAM
Huzzah! Buzz ah! Turn out, ye
And scan your fighters o'er:
Look well to tackle end and guard—
See all prepared for war.
At center stands the mighty Smith
With iron head and jaw:
His teeth are set in firm resolve
To win the day or die.
Look to the guards, Smith's right hand men!
See men of muscle they;
McMillan strong and Tuttle cool
Shall wedges mow them down?
Next tackles meet the critic's eye—
How farce the day with them?
Smith, brother of the center man,
Will hold the name's renown.
At tackle also stands our Mac,
A man of joyful mood;
But watch him when the ball's in play;
He rushes like a fiend.
Beware the ends, two veterans, they
Who've fought on many a field;
Old Neff is now our left hand man,
While Abbott holds the right.
They tackle low with rushes swift
And reckless courage both,
With eye on ball and surging breast.
They drive on through the ranks,
Back of the line four veterans stand
Ready to do and crawl,
With head well down and legs well spread,
Into the line they crash.
The four as one go round the end
With ball well guarded in;
No hole escapes their watchful eyes;
No rush make they in vain.
At quarter Bryant takes the ball
From center cool and quick,
With swiftest pass and onward rush
He goes with ball and man.
Right half back French and left Littell
Know well the pressing need —
French dodging swift as lightning flash,
Goes sprinting up the field.
Littell with bushy head of hair
All that him see do know,
Although he's down, still five yards yet
He gains by ready roll.
At full back stood our Murray boy
Till in a vengeful mood,
He tried to stop a dozen men
And got his coup de main.
Look at our full back now, my man.
Mighty of frame and speed;
He strikes the center like a storm,
Stops runner like a rock.
I've sung this tale in hero strain,
Yet all this would be true
If but in practice firm and strong,
They'd meet but twice a week.