Oh, Harbaugh, from games thou art barred,
For rules of fair play thou hast marred.
Into the chill, like mead most sour,
Thy season ends, in NCAA's hour.
O'er Gaza's field, Israeli might,
Advanced with swift and surprising delight.
Yet complexities lie in the path hence to tread,
Like strong ale in a monk's convoluted head.
From Detroit’s gain, Honda takes cue,
An eleventh part added to workers' due.
Like the best wine after a long pious fast,
Sweet is the reward when the hardship is past.
