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A Holiday Ode

Curious Georges

'Twas two weeks before Christmas.

And the campus throughout.

Twelve wrestlers were sweating.

To prepare for a bout.

The hoopsters were rolling.

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The icemen were hot.

The fencers were folding.

The grapplers were not.

Parties were rocking.

And formally galore.

To Springfield they travelled.

To be pounded for sure.

Some finals are coming.

Nine finals were going.

The matmen were hoping.

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