Home » Poems » Bryan Norton » The Bulldogs and the Mudhogs

The Bulldogs and the Mudhogs

Football brought shivers to folks in Three Rivers,
With slivers of Fall in the air,
And the crowd was excited but not so delighted,
By weather more cloudy than fair.

A player named Paul was the hottest of all,
And he played for a team that was great,
He played for a team and the sake of a dream,
To be known as the best in the State.

The Bulldogs were bruisers more often than losers,
And Paul's game was proving his worth,
He was better each year with a dad who was clear,
That his son was the finest on earth.

The Dogs meant to squash all the boys from Mud Wash,
A team that was zero and nine,
But all of their scorn was like buckets of corn,
To the Hogs who refused to be swine.

The Mudhogs, in fact, were not willing to act,
Like a team that was tepid and weak,
For the rain and the mud were the life and the blood,
Of the Hogs when they played at their peak.

With pride on the line and a reason to shine,
All the Mudhogs were ready at last,
But the half-time arrived and the Hogs that survived,
Were dismayed by the two-quarters past.

The Bulldogs who led by just three points ahead,
Were convinced that the Mudhogs were done,
But the Hogs made it clear they had nothing to fear,
From a team that was ranked number one.

For the Mudhogs to win they would have to begin,
To disprove what the Bulldogs had said,
So they fought with a strength that was better at length,
By the way they came back from the dead.

The fourth quarter came and the score was to blame,
When the fans said the game was a dud,
But a storm cloud appeared and the Mudhogs were cheered,
By the downpour of rain and the mud.

The Bulldogs were floored by the Hogs when they scored,
And the latter were leading by four,
But the Bulldogs were glad by the weather they had,
When the darkness turned sunny once more.

The game's final call was decided by Paul,
On a play that was fourth down and goal,
And he knew they would win by the size of his grin,
And the play of a team on a roll.

The fans of the team were already to scream,
With a second or two left to score, 
But the boy and his pass were reduced by the grass,
That was fed by a Hog to a bore.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.