10/20/02
I don't know but I've been told-
No-one beats the Blue and Gold

Our plumes are wet, our toes are cold-
our Banana Jackets smell like mold

On to the field we march like one-
only ten minutes and we'll be done

Salute the judges, Hagon's ready to go-
hope Norm doesn't kill us after the show

I'm out of time I'm out of place-
crap, what's that look on Durner's face?

Clarinets are squeaking, the drums are wrong-
I can tell this night is gunna be long

The show is done, we're marking time-
that's all folks, its the end of our rhyme