'Twas Thursday in Cleveland, home of the Browns
and it was late in the season, with them Stillers in town.
And the Brownies hadn't beaten them in over six years!
but they lined up on the frosty turf and faced down their fears.
Defending World Champions! hunting for ring number 7
The Browns had no chance - come on, 1 and 11?
But out o'er the lake, strange forces swirled
and conspired to create an crazy upside-down world
A wild wind arose, and it whipped 'round the city
some sort of black magic, for the Steelers played shitty!
A curse rode the wind, as it blew through the stands
taunting the players and freezing the fans
Then missed catches and fumbles and gaff upon gaff!
and what's this? the Steelers were shut out at the half!
The injuries! The wind! The freezing-ass cold!
too many factors against us, or so we were told
But when your all- pro receivers can't hang on to a ball, you
can't blame the bad knee of Troy Polamalu
The defense showed up, but they didn't stay long
when Cribbs gets the ball, miss a block and he's gone
And Ben, sweet Benny, where were you that night?
No pump-fakin', no tackle breakin' no down-field delight!
But Ben can't throw against defenses, be they nickels or dimes
when they come 'round the corner and sack him, what, like 23 times?
Alas, the Steelers were struck down, in that town by the lake
Not beaten by the Browns, more their awful mistakes
And so the hopes of a season dissipate like a smoke
or the steam from the helmet of nose-tackle Chris Hoke
While in Pittsburgh the streets were as silent as the grave
and the last terrible towel slowly ceased to wave
But the Burgh will recover, with time and with beer
and you'd better believe we'll be right here next year
On couches and tailgates, with our beers, brats, and buns
as those 32 teams make that Superbowl run
Each year some make it happen, whilst others will not
We're the Stillers of Sixburgh - how many yinz got?
