Twas the morning of Draft Day, and all through the blog
every Rumbler was stirring, everyone in a fog
The Rumblers were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of draft picks danced in their heads
And Chan in his 'kerchief, and Nix in his cap
Had just settled their brains, they knew who they'd tap
When out on the Drive, there arose such a clatter
We sprang from our beds to see what was the matter
Away to our laptops, we flew like a flash
The phone was ringing, offering draft picks and cash
A little old GM, so lively and quick
We knew in a moment, it must be St. Nix
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name
"Now Kalil, now Floyd, now Tannehill and Blackmon
On Gilmore, on Glenn, on Claiborne and Bannon"
To the top of the board, who'll get a phone call?
We can use 'em, we need 'em, we'll take them all
Then he sprang to the podium, to his team gave a whistle
And off went the pick, like the down of a thistle
But, I heard him exclaim 'ere he walked out of sight
"With the 10th pick, the Bills".....well, you'll find out tonight.