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350 Years of Christmas

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

For giving Wall Street a case of the nerves.

For the dear ole Red Sox, we'd buy out the marts,

But there's nothing much left, they've taken our hearts.

For Hendu, our thanks and an earful of cheers,

For Stanley and Buckner, we have only tears.

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The fierce Crimson and Elis held their annual tilt;

We met them, sank them, they did nothing but wilt.

For dear old Yale, 'twas a terrible cave-in.

They faltered, fell, we give them New Haven.

For Liz Woodley, who'll miss dear Brent Martin,

A brand new valet to handle the parkin'.

For Brian M. Byrne, free time and green ink,

(But don't leave the sawbucks drying in the sink).

For Patrick R. Sorrento, our guardian of pages,

A case of cigars to last through the ages.

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