'The Ravens' (with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe)

Once upon a Sunday, nervous, I sat spectating through my cable service, Wondering why, oh why, the Ravens couldn't score.

While I grimaced, quite distraught, suddenly a pass was caught. A breath of life from those once at death's door?

"'Tis just a fluke", I said, "a small vict'ry in a losing war." "Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, 'twas well past a cold December, And each playoff weekend became more of a bore.

Grumpily I watched my teams, sink like iron ducks it seems, As they flopped and flailed like an ostrich trying to soar.

And the Ravens fluttered, unlike the emblem that they wore; Flightless, winless, evermore?

Then, methought, the crowd was humbled, as a carried ball was fumbled, And the Ravens thwarted Belichik once more.

"Yes!", I cried, resounding, and my heart it was a'pounding, Hoping 'gainst hope that the Ravens could yet score,

But what fowl magic did the Patriots have in store? Stealing victory, evermore?

The Patriots lined up in the grass. Ray Lewis cried, "You shall not pass!" And the battle seemed to hang on fourth and four.

An errant pass, a strong defense, a welcome end to the suspense, And the Ravens were at Championship's great door.

Could they fly another trophy home to Baltimore? This we'll know, in one week more.

In Superdome near Bourbon Street, two Super teams in Bowl will meet; The Forty-Niners and great Baltimore.

Will Kaepernick be so fleet of feet, or Crabtree in the end zone meet? Will the Niners ride the back of running Gore?

On the mighty Ravens defense will they score? Quoth the Ravens: "Nevermore!"

Garrett L. Hancock, Tucson, Ariz.

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