Sophomore year You rushed for an average Of 8 1/3 yards per carry All eyes were on you
Junior year You blew your knee out At an out-of-town game Nowhere to go but Down, down, down Nothing but the ground for you to fall to
By July You’d made a whole bunch of brand new friends People you used to look down on And you’d figured out A way to make real money Giving Ns to your friends And it felt stupendous: Chrome spokes on your Japanese bike But selling acid was a bad idea And selling it to a cop was a worse one And new laws said that 17-year-olds could do federal time You were the first one, so I sing this song for you William Standaforth Donahue Your grandfather rode the boat Over from Ireland, but You made a bad decision or two.