Hootie’s Christmas Poem

December 21, 2012

Hey Yawl!

It’s the Number One Tennessee Vol Fan on the Planet!

You guessed it! It’s Ole Hootie Snitch coming to you from the heart of Volunteer Country in Baneberry Tennessee!

I done and went and a wrote all my fans a Christmas Poem!

I knows yawl are a going to love it!

Before we a get to my Christmas Poem, I got to tell you I wrote this en with a heavy heart.

And Not just cause of the coaching change, cause I like Coach Drooly, and it aint got nothing to do with us a hiring a thespian as a coach.
I got to tell you I was shocked as anybody when I heard we went and hired a “butch” fellow. Well that says to me that person is a thespian.
Anyway, what I really have a heavy heart over……

Is me and my wife got to go to my in-laws again this Christmas and my mother in-law makes this damn casserole that she calls “Possum Surprise” and I will tell you this, it’s a surprise all right….

I will be surprised if I don’t poop my dern pants before I get back to the trailer house

Yawl enjoy the poem and have a very Merry Christmas…..

Hootie – Out!

Twas the end of the season, with just one S-E-C win.
All the Vols were en-raged, ‘cause they’d tanked again.
All the Dooley’s were packin’, Barb and Vince knew the deal.
Poor old Derek was toast, sold his house, twas a steal.

The A.D. was a searchin’, for a coach high and low,
Somebody half decent, who’d take off and go.
He was dressed all in orange, to show off his pride
But the guys he talked to, they’d just run and hide.

They asked 3 or 4, even held out their hats.
But they all ran away, they scattered like gnats.
First Gruden, then Gundy, Fedora and Strong,
Nobody would take it, not for a song.

Meanwhile, poor old Derek, his packin’ commenced
Gonna have to move in, with Bar’bra and Vince.
Headin’ South down to Athens, the home of the Dawgs.
Mama put him to work, rakin leaves, choppin logs.

Mama said “don’t get comfy, we’re takin’ a trip.
Headed over to Bama, And don’t give me no lip.”
They piled in the Buick, no it didn’t make sense.
It was just mama Bar’bra, and Derek, and Vince.

Now Christmas with mama and Vince and their kin,
Brought back painful memories, of Childhood again.
There’s the time cousin Pearlie, who tipped Two-Fifty-Five
Jumped on his back, he’d barely survived.

There was Tinker and Lester and Shorty and Punk
The cousins from hell, never bathed and they stunk.
They’d play hide and seek, and it never did fail.
They’d run off and leave him, and he’d sit and wail.

But his mama, and daddy, and uncles and aunts.
They’d dress him up badly, gave him weird under-pants.
They thought it delightful, their lil baby doll.
They got some big kicks and laughed at it all.

He dressed like a doggie, back in 80 or so.
Complete with a collar, and leash, and a bow.
And during the time, when Herschel was there
They gave him a blowout, yes, big afro hair.

So Christmas Eve came, and he sat alone,
In a rocker by the fireplace, and wished he was home.
Thinking of coachin’, and what he’d done wrong,
Thinkin’ of childhood, when they made him wear a thong.

When all of a sudden, he heard a big clunk.
O’er near the fireplace, all clogged up with junk.
Then out of the clutter, out stepped a leg
It was Santa! With presents! And he had a keg!!!

He walked up to Derek, and gave him a poke.
And said “you got fire? Need to light up this smoke.
He sat on the sofa, pulled on his beer,
And said, “listen boy, things you need to hear!”

“Remember ole’ Madden, when he coached out west?
Yep he was a hero, he was the best.”
“You think that he left while on top of his game?
Cause coachin’ was fun? Well that’s just real lame.”

“Yep, Madden, and Corso, and lot’s of those coaches,
They hung up the chalk, tired of all those cockroaches.
Well, all but old Bowden, his day was past due,
‘Noles started losin’, but he had no clue.”

“So, like I was sayin’, a minute ago,
Don’t take it hard, Don’t be in woe.
The A.D.’s a moron, you made more than him,
By 2 or 3 times, that’s almost a sin!!

No more fans to deal with, no more Rocky Top ringin’,
God those hicks make me ill, with the same song they’re singin’
If you play it just right, if you want to get big,
Just wait for the phone, get an ESPN gig.

Young Derek he thought, and kicked back his beer.
I think Santa’s right! There’s nothing to fear!!
And as Santa was leaving, and slowly departed,
He gave me a wink, and silently farted.

And he bellowed real loud, Derek heard him say,
Merry Christmas young Derek!!


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