O Champion! our Champion! our fearful regular season is already done,
Your team has weather’d every bye week, the championship we sought, you won,
The playoffs are near, the loud expletives from other's I hear, while your bank account is exulting,
While follow envious eyes the steady Prestige Worldwide, the team grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where we all pray that our Champion lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Champion! our Champion! rise up and hear the yells;
Rise up—for you the W flag is flung—for you the message board trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you around your desk Delicious is a-crowding,
For you they curse, the other managers, their eager faces turning;
Here Champion! dear Doughnut's father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is our dreams that behind your computer screen,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
Our Champion does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
Our Champion does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The regular season is closed and done,
From fearful byes weeks and regular season matchups Prestige Worldwide comes in with our championship won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck our Champion lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
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