Stan Paregien, Sr., High School Football</head><body><center><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.com/p1.gif border=0 alt=Saviodsilva></center><hr color=3C00FF size=4><br><font size=4 face=arial><b><a href=91.htm>Stan Paregien, Sr.</a></b></font><br><center><img src=http://www.saviodsilva.net/poem/a/1.JPG border=0 alt=Poem></center><br><font size=3 face=arial><b>High School Football</a></b></font></center><blockquote><blockquote><p align=left><font face=arial size=2><b>Our old football coach was a strange kind of guy,<br>One who was mentally pumped up and flying high.<br>He always told the fans this will be the year<br>That we vanquish our rivals and fill them with fear.<br>Our coach turned into a madman when the starting whistle blew.<br>Get out there, boys, and kill a mother's son or two.<br>Mangle their bodies like your mommas mash sauerkraut<br>Gouge 'em hard, bite 'em and bash their brains out.<br>Make dead meat of that low-life, rotten scum-bag team.<br>Don't let 'em up off the ground until they start to scream.<br>And above all, the coach said, when the principal came around,<br>Remember, gentleman, it's just a game.So let sportsmanship abound.</b></font></p></blockquote></blockquote><hr color=0000ca size=3><center><font size=2 face=arial><b><a href=http://www.isavo.net/poem/sk1.htm>This Poem's Index Page 1</a><br><a href=http://www.yensa.net/poem/sk1.htm>This Poem's Index 2</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com/poems.htm>Poetry Website</a><br><a href=http://www.saviodsilva.com>Saviodsilva</a><br><a href=http://www.isavo.com>Isavo Site</a></b></font></center><SCRIPT LANGUAGE=JavaScript SRC=http://www.saviodsilva.org/r/fantasy.js></SCRIPT></body></html>