What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Curry. No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enow
To do our Wildcat Nation loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will, I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for just a first round win,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It ernes me not if men my Curry jersey wear;
Such outward things well not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet a trip to San Antonio,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from Davidson, North Carolina;
God's peace, I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more long range three.
Rather proclaim it presently through my host at the RBC Center,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let the Hoyas depart. His passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into John Thompson's purse:
We would not die in Georgetown's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the Feast of Curry:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a-tiptoe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Curry.
He that shall see this day and live t'old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his Tar Heel neighbours,
And say "Tomorrow is Saint Curry's Day":
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars
And say "These wounds I had on Curry's day."
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in Billy Packer's mouth as household words
J-Rich the Warrior, Sander the General,
Lovedale the Nigerian Nightmare, Gosselin and Archambault,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Curry's Curriness shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we Lunatic Fringe, we band of Wildcat;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my Wildcat brother, be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in Davidson now abed
Shall they think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Curry's day.
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