He could run real well and catch real well, about as well as well could be.
And though football was his game, 'twas not the reason for his fame,
and his ever-growing notoriety.
For he had a gaping gap in the middle of his yap that'll forever be his troubled legacy.
He first destroyed the 49ers, this king of selfish whiners, with a focus that has always been just "Me."
Then he took his act to Philly where he really pulled a dilly, killing all of that team's chemistry.
And as Philly picked up the pieces from this moron who hits and fleeces, They pulled the plug and set the monster free.
Enter T.O.'s spokesman, who put the D in Dum-Dum, what a circus they put on for all to see.
T.O. doing sit-ups, while the Eagles all did up-chucks, one sick meal a starving media fed you and me.
Unpaid and home alone, with a head that's solid bone, this unrepentant schmuck still bared his glee.
Saying no one can contain me, silence or enslave me, I'm T.O. and you're all the enemy.
Then Jerry Jones came calling even though the sky was falling, saying come to Texas T.O. my baby!
And the devil danced in Dallas on the Star in the 'Boys palace, and Big Tuna rolled over in his gravy.
For soon the 'Boys would blunder, another team T.O.rn asunder, you get just what you pay for blind Jerry.
Another football team in chaos thanks to T.O.'s anti-pathos, you're now a fool in football history.
May tomorrow please be brighter, as Tuna wields his new Bic lighter, incinerating his big contract A to Z.
And walking away into the sun, as far as possible from "The One," who came and turned his life to misery.
And may the Cowboys suffer, and other NFL teams get tougher, and rid our lives of this ignominy.
Who calls himself T.O., and this world's biggest show, and who'll have to rent his pall bearers when he leaves.