T’was the night before the Battle of the Bluegrass
When all through the state
Rivalrying was at its peak
Some even called it hate
The players were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of dunks and lobs danced in their heads.
With Cal smiling in Lexington
Rick wasn’t feeling fine
Was his record against Cal at UK
Going to end up as 1-9?
When out on Twitter there arose such a clatter
Louisville fans rushed to see what was the matter.
Vegas odds changed, the Red was favored by one
Was this the year the Cards would get it done?
But scared money don’t make money, or so Cal has said
So if you’re gonna bet, don’t put money on Red.
More rapid than eagles, Cal’s coursers they came
And he screamed and he shouted and he called them by name:
“On Briscoe! On Derek! On Wenyen and Bam!
On Fox! On Monk! Let’s see a slam!”
And then in a twinkling, we heard on the floor
Those dazzling Cats, as they ran up the score.
While Cal straightened his tie and was turning around,
Rick was all frantic and ran on the floor with a bound.
His eyes, how they bugged out, his complexion, so pasty
He shoulders drooped as he realized he’d been far too hasty.
His mouth was all drawn, no smile could you see
And that was when Ayers hit Rick with a “T.”
He spoke not a word, but his face said it all
The Cats were on a roll, the Cards were going to fall.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to the bench
Meanwhile Cal’s Cats did not even flinch.
Then extending one finger up toward the sky
Rick said “We’re number 1, and that’s not a lie!”
He went to the locker room, no press did he meet
All he could do was look at his feet.
But Cal’s Cats danced on the floor, another win in the bag
They showed L’s down and danced with some swag.
Then we heard Cal exclaim before he walked out of sight,
“Merry Christmas BBN! We won another fight!”
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