In this vein, here are some Christmas Carols you can sing as you wait for the season to mercifully end.
Good King Wenceslas looked outOver Cleveland's faminesVomiting, he had a strokeJust like Peter GammonsGently fell the ball that nightAt the feet of BraylonAs it struck him on the handsEffort he be mai-ai-lin'
O, putrid teamYour offense like molassesIt is the time for your coach to be canned
Please try a DThat doth involve some tack-lingWith linebackers, it would be like a team
The faint, false hopeOf competence and winningIs so much smokeAnd mirrors unadorned
Fall on your knees!Put down the empty bottle!O team, team, you suckYes, indeed, my team doth suckO team ... O team, goddam teamMy team doth suck
Dashing all our hopesIn a half-assed kind of wayO'er the fields we goSucking all the way
Brady's on the benchNow Derek is there tooWe're hoping for a miracleBut our QB's more like glue
Cleveland Browns, Cleveland Browns,Overrated dorks,My health plan will not pay outFor eyeballs gouged with forks
Cleveland Browns, Cleveland Browns,Throw the ball away!Once we had some talent hereBut we pissed it all away!
It came upon a Sunday clear,A very poor substituteFor football played professionally,Instead the question is moot
What have we done to vex the gods?What blasphemy have we fans wrought?We root, they play, and by the end,Both things come squarely to nought.
Away in the StadiumNo chance for a winThe team's 1-6 thereHow long has it been?
The team's giant coach stoodAll cozy and warmHe challenged the coin flipAnd stayed right in form
The defense showed passionThe offense did notJamal hit the D-lineAnd fell on the spot
The team had one hope left'Twas Cincy they playedAgainst modern offensesThey got flambee'd
But modern, alas,Does not our O denoteThe team wandered aimlessly,Pointless and rote
Their quarterback rivalledThe one on our teamMost fungal in natureIt made both fans scream
Away from the StadiumThe fans slouched awayThe NFL scheduledAnd forced them to play
With joy from their heartsHaving quickly been drainedThe "Wait for next year" shoutsWere awfully strained
Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo,Right down Lousy Coach LaneHe's got a headset, and an expression thatSays he is in pain
He hears voices on his headsetHe inspires us allHe shows coaching acumenJust like a brick wall
Savage the GMWas a bitter, sheltered soulWith a boyish faceMired in third placeHe could not get on a roll
Savage the GMThought the seat was hot that dayAs he made a fussThrew his coach a busAnd hoped he would go away
There should have been some magic inThat old draft board he foundBut when he got the chance to shineHe whiffed in several rounds
O, Savage the GMHad to hurry on his wayFor as Savage knewWhen you say, "F&$* you!"It's time to call it a day