As most of you know, Maya Angelou and I tend run in the same circles. We are both North Carolina poets and wordsmiths. We are both held in the highest regards by other esteemed writers and laureates from throughout this great country. From the President of the United States all the way down to the drunken hobos that live behind the Sunoco down the street from my house.

In order to fully prepare for the upcoming NFL season, I asked her to write a few words about the fate of a few of the teams. And here, you lucky Lampoon readers, are her predictions for the 2009-10 NFL Season,

The Cowboys

Romo-thou art not a failure

Fumbulicious, maybe still

Play-offs still haunt your dreams

No longer necessary on special teams

But a man in shining blue stars

Who holds all the cards

Of fortune,

is surely sheriff

A billion green faces have lain

Before you an exquisite new home

Where Buffalo need not roam

As long as T.O. catches in their town

The Jones of Jerry; Master of Cowboys

Has built a cathedral of success

For America’s team

The American Dream

Like blondes with high beams

A subject you know something about

Wrangle up some wins Tony R.

In the play-offs, you must ride far

Or next year at this time

You will be washing my car

The Jets

Jets, the Jets; soaring through the clouds

Hopes and dreams on the wings of Favre

Have come careening to the ground

Alas, a new pilot-Sanchez, this season will fly

Ready to pull back the throttle

And rise higher and higher into the sky

Fans line-up to for the chance to see

On the runway, as the green Jets taxi

The people rise, rise and crowd the airport gate

Sadly, they will still finish worse than 8 and 8.

The Bears

Chicago cold and windy

The lake stares briskly at you

Orton traveled to Denver

And so, the offense is born anew

The defense is like poetry

At the helm a man, Urlacher

As blanketing as a new fallen snow

The qb he will surely sack her

Traps for Bears don’t often succeed

But they often catch the Cubbies

So Chicago puts it hopes and dreams

On the shoulders of a man named Lovie

The Vikings

Brett Favre, Brett Favre

The people of Minnesota

Are starved, for a ring

Put on your majestic purple Four

And helmet—which proudly adorns

Those alabaster and unbreakable horns

And lead your men to battle

Greeen Bay shakes its death rattle

As new fans will help you mount the saddle

Because a championship ring is in their conception

The ball floats higher and higher and higher

Interception

The Panthers

Roaming in the fields of the Carolinas

Panthers, majestic, proud and black

Basking in a harvest of blue Peppers

Where Carolinians pick up there sacks

Alas, the Peppers have gone sour

And it ruins the farmer’s lunch

For he hath provided the defense

And Smith hath provided the punch

If Peppers does not return to Charlotte fields

Leaving all opponents–free to roam

Panthers of Carolina have dug their grave

Where mediocrity will call surely call Delhomme

The Bucs

Once, proud pirates on the seas of seven

Buccanears be not proud, furthermore

Their ship had begun taking on water

Cadillac is on cinderblocks

in the front yard

Cannons lay silent

The boat is taking on water

This isn’t even worth it

You suck.

The Patriots

Patirots, oh Patriots,

Where have thou gone?

Once a team of outrageous dexterity

Has put down their muskets of age

A man of steel has been laid to turf

His injured leg hath felt the dirt

And the steel of scalpel upon his knee

Had set his opponents,

Who had longed to be free

Freedom! They exclaimed

As the war carried on

Red, white and blue still fought at dawn

Patriots forever, no matter the case

As linebackers grew old

And victory,

They no longer could taste

But, out of a deep musty fog

Your General has risen

So pick up your muskets

And release yourself from prison

He is the One to ease your worried pains

For he is the Man that moves your chains

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