Quoth the Ravens 'Nevermore.'

The Ravens
With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe
EA Poe... It's in the game!

Once upon a Sunday dreary, while I shouted drunk and beery,
Over many a quaint and curious replay of 2000 lore,
While I grant, without reduction, the value of Ray-Ray’s Obstruction,
They’re not Jet-like in their suction, but deduction tells you, that was before.
‘They’re a D,' I muttered, `Their QB can’t score -
Only defense, nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember after 20-9’s December,
How January made my member shrink and shrivel to the core.
Eagerly I wished the morrow, that playoff game set in Foxboro
In the books, and causing sorrow - sorrow we just couldn’t score
For the harried QB Brady whom the gods that day deplored -
Redeemed today for evermore.

May a sick and certain hurtin’ be put upon the purple curtain
Thrill us - fill us with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of Joe Flacco, Time-outs are needing
`'Tis some visitor receding slowly to Foxboro’s floor -
Some hated visitor receding to Foxboro’s floor; -
This Flacco is, and nothing more,'

For in ’12 our rush grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said they, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is that while two-gapping, too gently often we came rapping,
And so faintly we came tapping, tapping at an O-line’s door,
That they scarce were sure they heard us' - here Carter opened wide the door; -
‘But this is now, that was before.’

Deep into that defense peering, Flacco stood there wondering, fearing,
Belichick’s scheming schemes no quarterback had yet seen before;
But the other Ray was badly broken, and the Patriots gave no token,
And the only word there spoken in Flacco’s helmet radio, `fourth and four!'
This was whispered, and Flacco echo’d back the last word, `…four?'
Merely punt and nothing more.

Back to Brady, the game returning, 2010 within him burning,
Soon the Ravens heard Foxboro stirring somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said Tom, `surely that is something at my blind side;
Let me sidestep (kiss my hind side), and this defense now explore -
Let the crowd be still a moment while this defense I explore; -
'Tis Ed Reed and nothing more!'

Open here he found Wes Welker, who, like Manson, helter-skelter,
carved up the stately Ravens of the hated days of yore.
Not the least hesitation made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien forsaking “maybe, ” found the end-zone of Baltimore -
Perched upon the Ravens’ end-zone, just another Patriots score -
As we carved up Baltimore.

Then these ebony birds beguiling, took the ball back, never smiling,
But a grave and stern decorum was the countenance they wore,
`Though thy decal be confusing, thou,' I said, `art sure amusing.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering in from Baltimore -
Tell me when thy lordly game will be like Year 2000 lore!'
Quoth the Ravens, `Nevermore.'

At length I’d write, like Poe’s original -- of the Bronco round divisional,
Or a rhyme or two provisional, about Gronkowski’s record scores,
Or rhapsodize about young Ninkovich, or say that Kinkos
Copies less than the stinkos on the coaching staff of Baltimore –
But the game approaches; can Baltimore their dreams restore?
Quoth the Ravens, ‘Nevermore.’

Awesome.

GO PATS!!!

So were you, too, a resident of The Lawn?

Nah, William & Mary ("The Lawn" is a UVA thing if I remember correctly?)

that was just awesome

Very well played.. if you got it, flaunt it.