Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Storm
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Norm
The banners were hung by the rafters with care
In hopes that another one soon would be there
The children were nestled all snug in their impossible to find Saint John's gear
While echoes of NIT championships rang their ears
And mamma in her unmentionables and I in the nude
Had just settled down for a long winter's rude
awakening
When up on the roof there arose such a sound
That I loaded my 12 gauge and set loose the hound
But what did my wondering eyes see en route?
A miniature sleigh and eight mystery recruits
With a pompadoured driver so lively and thin
I knew in a moment it must be Lavin
With wingspans like eagles his players they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name
"Now Derwin! now Wiggins! now Gary and Barry!
On Kyle! on Sylvan! on John Calipari!
To the top of the rankings! The top of the polls!
Higher than Blue Devils, Orange, and Vols!
Then he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout,
Got himself situated and got the hell out
But I heard him exclaim as he donned Keady's rug
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a humbug."