Gary Bragg
High Plains Storm
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Corn Bred

By Gary Bragg

 

It’s a long, long road from Scottsbluff to Lincoln

But I’d walk it uphill both ways

This is our year, that’s what I’m thinkin’

What else would you expect me to say?

 

A single seat on the visitor’s side

White or red hat, it’s hard to decide

I got the ticket cause my Grandma just died

And you’ll never take it away

 

I’d kick Barry Switzer’s ass

Crawl through broken glass

To watch my Huskers play.

 

Cause I’m Corn Bred

I’m loud and I’m proud and I’m well fed

Got Husker sheets on my kid’s bed

It helps him sleep good at night

 

I’m Corn Bred

I’m loud and I’m proud and I bleed red

Don’t care what ESPN said

This year we go all the way

 

When I get home from work

I park my red pick-up beside my Husker mailbox

I got a velvet painting of Bob Devaney

Next to my Cornhusker clock

Throw my Johnny Rodgers jersey

In my new Big Ten bag

Get my trailer to the tailgate

Push pull or drag

You can see the red N on my game day flag

From three quarter mile away

 

I’d give up a kidney

Swim all the way from Sidney

To watch my Huskers play

 

Cause I’m Corn Bred

I’m loud and I’m proud and I’m well fed

Got Husker sheets on my kid’s bed

It helps him sleep good at night

 

I’m Corn Bred

I’m loud and I’m proud and I bleed red

Don’t care what ESPN said

This year we go all the way

 

Them’s fightin’ words

If you slight Dr. Tom

May as well say awful things ‘bout my mom

Cause the old man from Hastings keeps us honest and strong

But the wait for a title has been way too long.

I’d rather beat Oklahoma than get rich from this song

 

Cause I’m Corn Bred

I’m loud and I’m proud and I’m well fed

Got Husker sheets on my kid’s bed

It helps him sleep good at night

 

I’m Corn Bred

I’m loud and I’m proud and I bleed red

Don’t care what ESPN said

This year we go all the way

 

‘Cause on January first, or the sixth or the ninth or the fourteenth or the seventeenth

Depending on the financial or political situation of those in charge of the BCS . . .

It will be our day