The Wreck of Aggieland Football
(To the tune of "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot)
The legend lives on from the campus down to the field,
Of the Big 12-to-SEC team they refused to yield.
The stadium, they say, had 100,000 strong,
When the season began, they were righting every wrong.
The fall schedule came out, a challenging slate to be sure,
From the warm southern breezes of August, to the October allure.
With the Utah State win, the scoreboards were a-light,
And they left Notre Dame defeated, a glorious, fighting sight.
The team was electric, the defense was stout,
They rolled over Auburn and gave Mississippi State the rout.
They beat the Gators, they topped Arkansas in a tight one,
They went into November with everything still to be won.
The season was perfect, the record was clean,
The pollsters all whispered, "Is this the greatest team
That College Station has witnessed, in a decade or two?"
They were 8 and 0, man, the national media knew.
Does anyone know where the searchers failed to find
The winning traditions that the Aggies left behind?
The November curse, the collapse that came to be,
The Aggie ship that sank in the mighty SEC.
The big November wind kicked up from the Show-Me State,
And the trip to Missouri sealed their horrifying fate.
The wheels came right off, they could not score a dime,
Their playoff hopes vanished in the eleventh hour of time.
They limped back to Kyle Field with their heads hung so low,
And the South Carolina Gamecocks put on a tremendous show.
The dream was now dust, though the end was yet to come,
They struggled with Samford, a game they nearly succumbed.
They were bound for the Forty-Acre Sea where the Longhorns roam,
For the final, sad chapter, far away from home.
They met the mighty Texas, the Friday after grace,
And the final, cold scoreboard stared them right in the face.
In a musty old hall on the campus in the wood,
The old leather helmet still stands, as it should.
And the song, it is sung, it says that the Aggies fall,
When the leaves start to turn, they lose all the damn balls.
The Missouri, South Carolina, Samford, and Texas foes,
They were the four opponents that delivered all the woes.
When the Aggie ship went down, all the cheers were erased,
Another November legend, forever disgraced.
They might have caught fire from the Wreck of Aggieland Football.
I think we will win out, but also thought this was funny.
Flame away.
(To the tune of "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot)
The legend lives on from the campus down to the field,
Of the Big 12-to-SEC team they refused to yield.
The stadium, they say, had 100,000 strong,
When the season began, they were righting every wrong.
The fall schedule came out, a challenging slate to be sure,
From the warm southern breezes of August, to the October allure.
With the Utah State win, the scoreboards were a-light,
And they left Notre Dame defeated, a glorious, fighting sight.
The team was electric, the defense was stout,
They rolled over Auburn and gave Mississippi State the rout.
They beat the Gators, they topped Arkansas in a tight one,
They went into November with everything still to be won.
The season was perfect, the record was clean,
The pollsters all whispered, "Is this the greatest team
That College Station has witnessed, in a decade or two?"
They were 8 and 0, man, the national media knew.
Does anyone know where the searchers failed to find
The winning traditions that the Aggies left behind?
The November curse, the collapse that came to be,
The Aggie ship that sank in the mighty SEC.
The big November wind kicked up from the Show-Me State,
And the trip to Missouri sealed their horrifying fate.
The wheels came right off, they could not score a dime,
Their playoff hopes vanished in the eleventh hour of time.
They limped back to Kyle Field with their heads hung so low,
And the South Carolina Gamecocks put on a tremendous show.
The dream was now dust, though the end was yet to come,
They struggled with Samford, a game they nearly succumbed.
They were bound for the Forty-Acre Sea where the Longhorns roam,
For the final, sad chapter, far away from home.
They met the mighty Texas, the Friday after grace,
And the final, cold scoreboard stared them right in the face.
In a musty old hall on the campus in the wood,
The old leather helmet still stands, as it should.
And the song, it is sung, it says that the Aggies fall,
When the leaves start to turn, they lose all the damn balls.
The Missouri, South Carolina, Samford, and Texas foes,
They were the four opponents that delivered all the woes.
When the Aggie ship went down, all the cheers were erased,
Another November legend, forever disgraced.
They might have caught fire from the Wreck of Aggieland Football.
I think we will win out, but also thought this was funny.
Flame away.
"A is A”
