This time of year, fans and players alike begin thinking of the holidays. At least, that's the way it is if you play or root for teams like the Cleveland Browns, for whom the playoffs are plainly absurd. In this vein, here are some Christmas carols you can sing as you wait for the season to mercifully end.
GOOD KING WECANTPASS
Good King Wecantpass looked out
Over Cleveland's famines
Vomiting, he had a stroke
Just like Peter Gammons
Gently fell the ball that night
At the feet of Braylon
As it struck him on the hands
Effort he be mai-ai-lin'
O PRUTRID TEAM
O, putrid team
Your offense like molasses
It is the time for your coach to be canned
Please try a D
That doth involve some tack-ling
With linebackers, it would be like a team
The faint, false hope
Of competence and winning
Is so much smoke
And mirrors unadorned
Fall on your knees!
Put down the empty bottle!
O team, team, you suck
Yes, indeed, my team doth suck
O team ... O team, goddam team
My team doth suck
JINGLE BROWNS
Dashing all our hopes
In a half-assed kind of way
O'er the fields we go
Sucking all the way
Brady's on the bench
Now Derek is there too
We're hoping for a miracle
But our QB's more like glue
O ...Cleveland Browns,
Cleveland Browns,
Overrated dorks,
My health plan will not pay out
For eyeballs gouged with forks
Cleveland Browns,
Cleveland Browns,
Throw the ball away!
Once we had some talent here
But we pissed it all away!
IT CAME UPON A SUNDAY CLEAR
It came upon a Sunday clear,
A very poor substitute
For football played professionally,
Instead the question is moot
What have we done to vex the gods?
What blasphemy have we fans wrought?
We root, they play, and by the end,
Both things come squarely to nought.
AWAY IN THE STADIUM
Away in the Stadium
No chance for a win
The team's 1-6 there
How long has it been?
The team's giant coach stood
All cozy and warm
He challenged the coin flip
And stayed right in form
The defense showed passion
The offense did not
Jamal hit the D-line
And fell on the spot
The team had one hope left
'Twas Cincy they played
Against modern offenses
They got flambee'd
But modern, alas,
Does not our O denote
The team wandered aimlessly,
Pointless and rote
Their quarterback rivalled
The one on our team
Most fungal in nature
It made both fans scream
Away from the Stadium
The fans slouched away
The NFL scheduled
And forced them to play
With joy from their hearts
Having quickly been drained The "Wait for next year" shouts
Were awfully strained
HERE COMES ROMEO
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo,
Right down Lousy Coach Lane
He's got a headset, and an expression that
Says he is in pain
He hears voices on his headset
He inspires us all
He shows coaching acumen
Just like a brick wall
SAVAGE THE GM
Savage the GM
Was a bitter, sheltered soul
With a boyish face
Mired in third place
He could not get on a roll
Savage the GM
Thought the seat was hot that day
As he made a fuss
Threw his coach a bus
And hoped he would go away
There should have been some magic in That old draft board he found
But when he got the chance to shine He whiffed in several rounds
O, Savage the GM
Had to hurry on his way
For as Savage knew
When you say, "F&$* you!"
It's time to call it a day
