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Post being replied to

Apparently, Don McClean read the ND football obituary... by BeastOfBourbon

And being a good Irish boy, he was inspired to pen an update to his classic song, American Pie. I'm honored that he asked me to pass it along.


My, My, Our Lady on High

A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that football team used to make me smile.
They beat teams soundly when they had their chance
Oh how they could make their loyal fans dance
And make them really happy for a while.

But October 23rd made me shiver
With every ND Nation post I'd deliver.
Bad news ‘bout the Lads;
Navy kicked ‘em again in the nads.

I can't remember if I cried
When I read about their loss of pride,
But it really pissed me off deep inside
The day Notre Dame football died.

My, my, oh Our Lady on High
How the hell did they let your football program run so dry?
Lit a candle at the Grotto and started to cry
Singin', "Can we please give a real coach a try?”
"Can we please give a real coach a try?”

Now for fifteen years we've been in the Twilight Zone
And the grass don’t grow right at the hallowed home,
But that's not how it always was, you see.
Then the Boobster sang for the powers-that-be,
In an accent he borrowed from Aunt Bea
And with snot rockets launched towards you and me.

Oh, and while King Lou was looking down,
The Boobster stole his coach’s crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And as the Boobster turned his back on Moore,
Our line play became increasingly poor,
And blue-chip recruits became harder to lure
The day Notre Dame football died.

Now did you believe in those eight-and-oh days?
And did you have faith in Ty’s cliches,
Because Dr. White told you so?
Did you really believe all that rot,
About metronomes and the QB poop squat,
And how you have to mold ‘em nice and slow?

Well, I know you weren’t in love with him
‘cause when they canned his ass you had a shit-eatin’ grin.
You jumped up and kicked off your shoes.
It’s Gruden! Spread the news!

I was a lonely middle-age message board buck
Having to settle for the notion of hiring Chuck,
But deep down I knew we were out of luck
The day Notre Dame football died.

I started singin',
My, my, oh Our Lady on High
How the hell did they let your football program run so dry?
Lit a candle at the Grotto and started to cry
Singin', "Can we please give a real coach a try?”
"Can we please give a real coach a try?”

Helter-smelter, play-calling all a-skelter.
A kickoff flew off to a fallout shelter,
Twelve yards short and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the head coach up in the press box in a cast.

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
Ah, the yellow mums in perfect bloom!
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to run down field;
But to the forward pass they were again made to yield
It made us all want to yell, “Hey, what’s your deal?”
The day Notre Dame football died

We started singing,
My, my, oh Our Lady on High
How in the hell did they let your football program run so dry?
Lit a candle at the Grotto and started to cry
Singin', "Can we please give a real coach a try?”
"Can we please give a real coach a try?”

Oh, and there they all were with their curtains of lace,
Watching a team bent on “playing in space”
Throwing the ball all over the place.
So come on: Jack be nimble, Jack be quick!
Savvy Jack hired that Shanty Irish Mick.
‘Cause spread principles are a coach’s only friend.

And on 4th and goal as I watched them fail
I kicked the dog, I began to wail,
“Should’ve run with a fullback instead!
Fuck that gay-ass spread!”

And as I told myself it would be alright
One question plagued me all through the night,
“How could Beijing and ACross have been so right
‘bout the day the Notre Dame football died?”

I was singing,
My, my, oh Our Lady on High
How the hell did they let your football program run so dry?
Lit a candle at the Grotto and started to cry
Singin', "Can we please give a real coach a try?”
"Can we please give a real coach a try?”

I met a girl who wore gold and blue
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd seen good football played years before,
But the man there said Joe Montana wouldn't play.

And at ND Nation, the posters screamed,
The Board Ops cried, and the panty waists dreamed.
Idiotic words were spoken;
The board rules were all broken.
And the four men I admire most:
Rockne, Leahy, Parseghian and Holtz,
Had been replaced by a lineup of incompetent dolts.
The day Notre Dame football died.

We started singing,
My, my, oh Our Lady on High
How in the hell did they let your football program run so dry?
Lit a candle at the Grotto and started to cry
Singin', "Can we please give a real coach a try?”
"Can we please give a real coach a try?”