A MONGLY MAGOONISTIC BALLAD FOR THE MANTI AT THE END OF THE SEASON ON THE EVE OF THE EVE OF REGIONALS!
By Anna Isaacson, Spring 2005

On the very first day I found my way
through a tunnel that was dark,
cross a bumpy path and lumpy grass
to an expanse of field unmarked

by cleats and sneakers, feet to come.
I dropped my stuff tree-side
and met these girls—the frisbee team?
And then I did decide:

don’t be nervous, don’t by shy.
Simple enough, I found.
These girls were loony frisbee goons
of silliness profound.

So I played frisbee all the day.
I learned to throw the "flick," (yeah it's really cool)
learned to cut lay fake and force,
and learned to call a PICK!

Soon I too sought the sweet sweet feeling
of reaching for a disc
when everyone thinks it can’t be caught
and coming down with it—hahahahaha

But today I played my final game.
And it was awesome--yeah. yeah.
I looked around me—there were friends
like no others I had met.

So I say to you: go kick some tush
and make them mourn their dearth
cuz you’re the maddest mantis monkualisticals
that will ever walk this earth.