Sing in me, O’ Muse, of fallen tournament warriors
Speak now on the fabled lore of our tested and noble Hoya ballers
In this new century, there was a new season
And Hoyas stood fast against all hopes and reason
Unranked, untested, fighting the fight of the ages
Against cynics, naysayers, soothsayers and sages
Vitales and Diggers, who would have known that the wins would come?
‘Twas the students and faithful who saw what was invisible to some
And of course the players knew, no more NIT banners for them
To the hilltop and D.C. victory they would lend
A Hector of new emerged, a tested knight with sharp-edged ‘bows
His name is Boumtje-Boumtje, and he reaps the victory that he sows
Rebounds and swats, to ‘Cuse he did it in a row twice,
Made them and Boeheim cower on the bench, forlornly looking like tiny mice
But as this Hector exits Troy in the fury of the fight,
His Achilles shines through the strife with a most crushing might,
A soldier that lives to fight another day, Sweetney’s frame blinds enemies like night
His heel comes to light when taking free throws
But the young man makes it up with dunks and boards, as any student knows
So Sweetney will return, not going the pro way
That the Cameroon power Boumtje-Boumtje may
Others will, though, namely seniors Lee and Perry
Two short-lived phenoms also known as Scruggs and Anthony
The much-called “Spindly transfer” stared down the toughest of Terps
And Perry’s three-point touch was scarier than even the most frightening of perps
But behind it all lied the General, and the Muse does not sing of Bob Knight
Rather this guard is a local lad, most fine and upright
His name is Braswell, a local chap refined at MCI (the school and the stadium)
This Kevin went left on most, and foes knew not what to do with him!
A one-handed crossover, a right-handed drive, and all that’s left is a glimpse of mustache
Past guards he would slide, into the skirmish he went, and opponents he would mash
Fans love his soft big-game three
And a needle-threading no-look is a sight to see
So these valiant combatants, with Hunter, Wilson, Riley, and Hillier in toe
Brought the program back to the prominence of the big show
Sweet sixteen teams there were, and despite the loss
Esherick should be proud (being the big boss)
We’re back, we watched, we’re proud, and McDonough needed victory
O’ Muse, how fine to win like towel-shouldered Coach John T!
