’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land, Longhorn pride soared, as if by command.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, with hopes of a title—we’re almost there!
The fans were all nestled, snug in burnt orange, dreaming of triumphs on fields wide and large.
With Bevo adorned in his festive attire, the spirit of Texas burned bright as a fire.
When out on the field there arose such a roar, it echoed the victories we’d garnered before.
Away to the games, we flew like a flash, through Sooners and aggy, we brought quite the clash.
First, in Dallas, we took to the fight, and sent Oklahoma home in the night.
The Red River belonged to the Longhorn crew, with skill, grit, and passion—they all surely knew.
Then to College Station, where rivals would meet, the Aggies stood proud but met their defeat.
For Texas had thunder, a force to behold, reclaiming traditions, both timeless and bold.
And now in the playoffs, a victory so sweet, our first of the kind—Clemson we beat.
With each passing game, our dreams rise anew, the horns pointing upward, the future in view.
As the moonlight shone bright on our team’s glowing helm, the fans felt the magic of football’s grand realm.
And I heard them exclaim, as they cheered through the night, “Merry Christmas to all, and Hook ’em Horns tight!”