Okay, enough with the draft. It's time to document the Combine:
Seventy six DBs marched to the Combine
While a hundred and ten LBs filled the seam
They were followed by lines and lines of quarterbacks devine
the best of every famous team.
Seventy six DBs per-formed awesome deeds
With a hundred and ten LBs right behind
Wannabe-be Ed Reeds were springing up like weeds,
Safe-ties were there in every shape and kind
Middle 'backers yelled out loud their trashy boast
"I'll stuff the run, I'll stuff the run, don't try it up the gut. "
Then Speedy thin receivers shot straight for the post
And slower ones came running from the slot
There were fifty thousand scouts up in the nosebleed seats
Taking notes, taking notes, recording every sight
Fine on turf, how will they do, when wearing football cleats?
It's their job to YEA or NEA, get ev'ry eval right
Seventy six DBs all knew what was what
They like to dish out lots of hurt and pain
To the rhythm of 'HUT HUT HUT!' the Oline yelled "Huh? What?"
They earn their dough, with brawn not with their brain