'Twas the night after Auburn, And all through the land, Not a "Roll Tide" was uttered, By a Crimsom Tide fan.
They used to be boisterous, They used to be loud, They used to be boasters, And cocky and proud.
But they've lost all their swagger, They've lost all their swing. For one second, you see, Would change everything.
The score, it was tied. The clock had run dry, When St. Nicholas Saban, Well, he started to cry.
He demanded one second, Put back on the clock. The worse that could happen, Was a miss or a block.
But fate, it is fickle, And greed has a price, And what happened next, Well, it wasn't too nice.
The previous kicks, Were wide left and right. Nick put in a rookie, 'Twas not very bright.
He lined up the kick, Fifty-seven and change, The wind at his back, And certainly within range.
The kick was a boomer, Traveling fifty-six yards, But the extra yard needed, Just was not in the cards.
In the back of the end zone, A lone Tiger stood. He caught that ole' football... And he caught it real good!
He started to run, He heard the cheers grow. The Crimson Tide players... Were too fat and too slow.
One hundred nine yards, He ran for a score. If needed, he could have, Run a hundred nine more.
The crowd, it erupted, And stormed on the field. The Crimson Tide's season, Was now, all but sealed.
A cry of "War Eagle" Soon echoed the plain. Nick Saban's face, Was one of pure pain.
Way up in Ohio, They shouted, "Go Bucks!" For now, all had hope, Well, all but the Ducks.
And in Tuscaloosa... You could hear a pin drop. And in Tallahassee... A tomahawk chop. For the night after Auburn, The Tide does not roll. The new boss in town, Wears Garnet and Gold!