The Crimson Ruby from the North
Refuses to forget!
The midnight sapphire of the South
Still rues the day they met!
A fever wrought of by-gone days
Of insults, blood and shame
Once more the fates’ their pathways cross
Both gladly join the game!
“I hate your face” – “You’ll pump my gas!”
And on and on it goes
But who will wear the victor’s crown?
The fates and time but know
‘Til close of day September nine
When all’s left on the field.
Only one can leave triumphant,
Disgraced, the other yields!
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