This is the year we’ll beat those Gobblers,
They whispered from Hoo to Hoo.
How can we keep losing to those hicks!
Said the boys from Mr. Jefferson’s U.

The day was gorgeous, the Hoos were loud, The annual battle had all the signs,
Of a classic for the ages.
Hoos and Hokies throughout Virginia,
Saw a game to be told by the sages.

The Hoos were ranked number 25!
After just stomping on the Seminoles.
Hopes were high for the Wahoo fans,
Could a Hoo victory be foretold?

They had a new coach who brought them back,
From the pits of abject despair.
Hoo faithful were showing up at the games,

Brother stood by Brother.
“We’ll whip those agriculturists!”
The Teasips told each other.

At the start the Hoos were almost unstoppable,
But what it all meant was murky.
Cause when they came to the goal line and took a chance,
The Hokies stuffed them like a turkey.

So the air went out of the Hoo balloon,
And suddenly the fun was gone.
It became quite evident which team would win,
As the Hoo line began to look wan.

It was Wilson left and Wilson right,
And Thomas took to the air.
And when it was all over,
It all didn’t seem quite fair.

As the sun slowly set over the Hooville crowd,
And they started to slink toward the gates.
As Tech Triumph began to fill the night,
All Wahoos were cursing their fates.

Their little orange and blue ties,
Were all soiled and askew.
Twas a good day to be a Hokie,
But a bad day to be a Hoo.

O’ somewhere Hoos are happy!
Somewhere Hoos are gay!
Somewhere they sing the “Good Ol Song”,
To dear Ol’ UVA.

But Hoos are sad and beaten down,
For this has come to pass,
For the eighth year in a row.
The Hokies kicked their ASS!

An Old Hokie
P.S.Warren
CE, '67