T’was the night before of Christmas,
game day for the Flock,
when from the front porch,
came a burp and a knock.
I ran to the door,
and no one was there,
but the smell of a skunked
Natty Boh filled the air.
The heart of a raven,
the shape of a panda,
I knew this could only be,
Baltimore Santa.
And when I turned round,
I swear it’s the truth,
He was hitting a mean
Park Heights Strut on the roof.
He wore camouflage cargos,
of purple and black,
An old 52 jersey,
donned on his back,
once Wacko for Flacco,
now lit for Lamar,
he was guzzling egg nog,
straight from the jar.
He ran down the roof,
with a quickening pace,
and tripped on the gutter,
landing right on his face,
“Now KHam, now Roquan,
now Marlon, let’s go!”
“On Flowers, on Bateman,
and LJ the Goat”.
Then he flew off to Houston,
Shouting “Let’s fucking win this”
“And to all a good night,
Merry Charm City Christmas”
#RavensFlock @Ravens
I will not celebrate until the clock hits 0:00.
I will not celebrate until the clock hits 0:00.
I will not celebrate until the clock hits 0:00.
I will not celebrate until the clock hits 0:00.
I will not celebrate until the clock hits 0:00.
I will not celebrate until ...
I’m 6'5" and actually played baseball. The fact I went to college and got a degree and worked hard might be lost on you. I don’t play backgammon but I do play chess. I could also twist you into a pretzel.