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Twas the Morning of Realignment


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Twas the Morning of Realignment

'Twas the morning of realignment, when all through the State

All the coaches were scrambling to find out their fate;

Their non district foes in their pocket with care,

In hopes their new district would not find them there;

The coaches all nervous at their Educational Service Center,

Were waiting for the dude with the packets to enter;

Some in their visors, and I in my cap,

Were nervously drawing up a new way to trap,

When all around the room there arose such a clatter,

I looked up from my notebook to see what was the matter.

Away to the packets I flew like a flash,

Tore open the booklet and looked through my stash.

The light from the ceiling emmited it’s fluorescent glow

And gave the lustre of mid-day to the districts below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But the name of my school in a district not near,

With a belch from my taco, so putrid and thick,

I knew in a moment I was going to be sick.

More rapid than eagles the coaches they came,

Looking for non districts and they called me by name;

I need a zero! I need a third! the voices were humming

Come play me week four! You’ll be my homecoming!

I’ll check my schedule and give you a call!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

I looked at my district and started to cry,

Because I knew that some nights we’d have some long trips,

And three of the teams had won championships.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on my cell,

The ring tone was signaling a realignment hell.

â€I can’t play you week two, I have a prior commit,â€

I told him succinctly, “that ain’t worth a [Censored]!â€.

I looked at the numbers that separated class,

To see what the UIL had brought to pass;

I peeked at the 4A and suddenly knew,

The top number, of course, was Highland Park plus TWO!

I searched through the crowd for someone I knew,

I had to find a game to fill up week two,

His eyes – they were bloodshot! his dimples how scary!

His cheeks were like sandpaper, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was filled with a chaw,

And the front of his shirt was the worse thing I saw;

The juice from the chew was staining his teeth,

And the stain on his shirt was round like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a big old round belly,

That shook, when he cussed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled my last game; that I had lost to that jerk,

And wiping some spittle from off of his chin,

He left me standing there with a grin;

I sprang to my car, and headed back home,

And tried to call the school but my cell was on roam.

And I heard myself say as I drove out of sight,

“Happy Realignment to all, let’s have a good fight!â€

with respect to Clement Clarke Moore

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