In \'67, January\'s chill,
They gathered there, a rising thrill—
A clash of teams, a dream begun,
The birth of battles yet to come.
The Packers stood, in green and gold,
With legends fierce and stories bold.
Vince Lombardi, iron-bound,
A force like none around.
Across the field, Chiefs took stance,
In crimson red, a hopeful glance,
With Hank Stram’s wits and Len’s strong arm,
A daring squad with fierce alarm.
The fans they came, though numbers few,
Unknowing yet what would ensue—
A game that shaped a nation’s lore,
The Super Bowl, a legend’s core.
The kickoff soared, the crowds took hold,
As moments played in green and gold.
The Packers struck, their power shown,
With Starr and Hornung in the zone.
The final score? A Packers win,
And yet it felt like all could spin—
A world unlocked, a thrill, a feast,
As football’s lore had found release.
So here we cheer, each passing year,
For those first steps that brought us here.
The Super Bowl, it stirs the soul,
A dream that turned the game to gold.