Twenty-Eight to Three

Do you recall that night in Houston’s dome, When all of Georgia dared to taste the ring? The Falcons had it, then they gave it home. Up twenty-eight to three, they owned the throne, Confetti crews were set to let it fling — Do you recall that night in Houston’s dome? Then Brady woke. The pressure turned to chrome, Edelman’s catch: a ball that wouldn’t cling. The Falcons had it, then they gave it home. Run the damn ball. But no, they chose to roam, Sacks and flags, a field goal’s distant sting. Do you recall that night in Houston’s dome? Overtime came quick, a funeral poem, White cut inside, and silence took the King. The Falcons had it, then they gave it home. So raise a glass to leads that fly and roam, To 28–3, the ghost that still can sing. Do you recall that night in Houston’s dome? The Falcons had it, then they gave it home.