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To the school outside of Boston

With all of those fake accents so rotten

Almost as bad as that tiny stadium

You’re certainly going to miss the podium

It makes me think of your precious Final Clubs

Filled with countless Crimson scrubs

Ruining any hope of a fun time

Almost like having fun for you all would be a crime

But enough about all that — let’s get to the field

Where all your weaknesses will be revealed

You can’t throw the ball

Sure, you can run, but throw? Not at all

Oh, boy, will our defense have a day

From the second we begin to play

I can already see your QB on his back

Having no way to deal with our attack

But not to worry, we’ll show you the way

When Grooms wins the day

Throwing the ball deep to Tipton

I can already see it being written

I know this will be the first Game for your Claudine Gay

But all she’ll want to do is look away

Peter Salovey will be the one to party

Our Elis are just far too hearty

But at the end of the The Game

We’ll really all be same

Except of course for the fact

That nothing can distract

That all you’ll be thinking about on Sunday

Is that you have school on Monday!

Spencer King | spencer.king@yale.edu