An adaptation of "Twas the Night Before Christmas" by Clement Clark Moore
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Dome
Not a creature was stirring, the Saints staff was all home;
They'd just crushed the Leo's, still who really cared.
Cause hopes of the playoffs were no longer there.
The players were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of next year danced in their heads;
But Payton and Loomis sat down to map
The roster, the draft, the salary cap.
When on the Dome roof there arose such a clatter,
They sprang from their plans to see what was the matter.
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
A new D coordinator, and schemes for next year,
With a little old luck, and no more G. Gibbs,
They knew in a moment, this was the best fix.
More rapid than Reggie his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Vilma! now, Fuji! now, Shanle and Charleston!
With, Will Smith! with Ellis! with, Hollis we're blitzen!
To the top of the standings! to the top of them all!
We'll dash away! dash away! never to fall!"
And then, in a twinkling, they heard on the roof
Yet another loud crash, that gave them a spook
As they threw up their hands, and were turning around,
Down the chimney the DC came with a bound.
He dressed in a track suit, from his head to his foot,
the latter he used, up Bullocks butt he would put.
A bundle of schemes and formations he flung on his back,
And looked like a genius just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! could he be the answer?
This defense has needed, like a cure for a cancer.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled out the pink slip; of G. Gibbs that ole jerk,
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave them to know they had nothing to dread;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Who Dat!?" to all, next year I'll make right!