Tribal drums sound the dawn
Of a sacrificial rite
They gather round the fire
This late August night

What will they give the Gods
To appease the big brother
Rob would sacrifice nothing
Well perhaps his only mother

And there it is the prized hat
We’ve all come to cherish
Will Erika toss the pinkness
To suffer a fiery perish?

Silence reigns at this solemn time
We hold hands to chant a tune
Good by Rob's red tank top
Good bye black net of June

Good bye white Ali shorts
Good bye black pants of Jack
Good bye Jee’s orange shorts
There’s now no turning back

The only thing we cheer about
Is the pink hat we all hate
So throw it in, burn it now
Before it gets too late!