By a Sporting Benediction, Mine Super Bowl Prediction

By Lord Taylor Percy Keatsridge

Funion Poet Laureate











In summer, spirits are highest as
The audience, soused and silly, cheer on their crews.
The kickoff of the leather orb commences,
Sent into the outstretched arms of the Cardinal,
And the bowl, of most superior importance,
Is underway.

Come autumn the challenge remains deadlocked,
As summer proves unfruitful for each battalion.
Winter is fast approaching, the death of beauty looms,
As the mighty Roethlisberger, built like Ajax,
Fleet of foot like Achilles, humbly bows and takes
A knee.

The autumnal harvest offers no sustenance
To each family, as neither touches softly down.
Yet they rest, while The Bruce of Springsteen
Rings in the solstice with a swinging song.
The players are rested and ready, to take on the
Winter months.

The Steelers, that Pittsburgh Proletariat,
Receive the leather and swiftly steal away,
Scoring immediately, and put on extra.
The deadly sins, the days of creation,
The points by which they lead the Westerners:
Seven.

And so ends winter, and so starts spring.
The men are rejuvenated, like blossoms in bloom,
And proceed down the cavernous stretch. The
Cardinals enter enemy territory, but are stopped
Short of paradise, suspended in purgatory, and settle for
Field Goal.

And nothing further, as the mighty Roethlisberger,
On humble knee once more, liquidates the remaining
Ticks, and the Champions of the Bowl are named:
The Proletariat has risen, the Cardinal theocracy
Thwarted. Steelers score seven, Arizona only
Three.