The Niners were on TV, no one would dare roam,
Memorabilia was hung, by the chimney with care,
In hopes that one day, the 49ers would emerge from despair,
Matt was resting comfortably, alone in his bed,
With visions of Reggie, dancing in his head,
Mamma wrapping gifts, while Dad takes a nap,
The game was going nicely, not one little flap,
When on the TV, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed, to see what was the matter,
Away with the football, the 49ers had come,
How in the world, could they be so dumb?
All year long, we had suffered through this mess,
Reggie was to be our savior, San Francisco his new address,
But now what to my wondering eyes should appear,
Ferguson? Hawk? Who now will I cheer?
With an inexperienced driver, at the head of the team,
We can only look back, pining for the Walsh regime,
This used to be the place, where Super Bowls came,
Superstars played here, we knew every name,
"Go Joe", "Go Jerry," "Go Ronny", "Go Dwight,"
"This team is so good, Oh, what a sight",
To the top of the league, to the top of the hall,
Opponents would dash away, dash away, dash away and fall,
But on this day, Hurricane Gore did fly,
He met every obstacle, without batting an eye,
Into the end zone, the Hurricane flew,
St. Louis was helpless, there was nothing they could do,
But the game was in hand, St. Louis up thirteen,
I was comfortable with the contest, losing to the Rams had become routine,
But then, in a twinkling, I heard in the game,
The scratching and clawing from the team that had looked so lame,
I watched nervously, as the team came around,
My dreams of Reggie as a Niner, coming down with a bound,
He was to be dressed red and gold, from his head to his foot,
His opponents left defeated, all covered in soot,
A bundle of trophies, he would carry on his back,
He would bring respect, to our rushing attack,
His vision so spectacular, his cuts so quick,
He'd bring the fans back, to the old stadium we call the 'stick,
A wink of an eye, and a Heisman in hand,
Soon would let me know, we were back in command,
After the draft, he'd go straight to work,
He'd run through the defense, and drive coordinators berserk,
On his fingers, would be Super Bowl rings,
And once again, the Niners would be Kings,
But the dream is now over, my hopes diminished,
Our hopes of landing Reggie, are now totally finished,
But I heard Reggie exclaim, ere he run out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, you'll still be alright".
