Twas the night before the Iron Bowl, and all through Auburn chests,
Not a hope was stirring, not even the barner obsessed.
Jonna Chizik's prayers were posted on Facebook with care,
In fear that St. Nicholas Lou Saban soon would glare.
When out in the media there arose such a clatter,
Coach Chiz sprang up from his scrapbooking to see what was the matter.
Away to the NCAA mailbox he flew like a flash,
Tore open the letters, and threw up a gasp.
Then, what to his watering eyes should appear,
But an NCAA array announcing "We're here."
More rapid than eagles the interviewers they came,
And he whistled for Pat Dye, and shouted, and called him names.
"Now Trovon, now Demetruce, now Jonathan Wallace,
tell them our recruiters left your academics spotless.
To the tops of Toomer's Oaks, to the top of Samford Hall,
now proclaim away, proclaim away, proclaim away all!"
And then in a twinkling he heard on his cell,
Jay Jacobs ringing, announcing his death knell,
The call was dress'd all in legalese and throughput,
And behold Chiz's contract pronounced ashes and soot.
So he ended the call, went to bed and slept not sound,
For to Tuscaloosa and the Iron Bowl the next day he was bound.
Out on the field St. Nick approached with a growl,
And Gene knew this would be no Tiger Prowl.
A wink of Saban's eye and a twist of his head,
And Chiz understood he had even more to dread.
Nick spoke not one word, but walked away with a smirk.
Then Alabama's defense lined up, all to work.
And giving a nod, Saban let loose the flood,
Of the Crimson Tide menace out for rivalry blood.
O'er 60 minutes they played like a team on a mission,
And the Tide sent the barners down the road to perdition.
Chiz heard Saban exclaim ‘ere he walked out of sight,
"Roll Tide to all, we made his ass quit … Aight."