Put big money down upon the favorite,
only givin’ two.
Late game bad calls turned it to a close one,
as they often do.
Down a point, they had to foul our scorer,
sent him to the stripe.
Three ticks left, he calmly swished the first shot,
then he took the pipe.
I was praying, screaming for a tap-in,
but it was too late.
Once again my boys had left me hangin’.
Watched ’em celebrate.