The peeps over at Survivor Oz put out an article about the changing meaning of a third-place finish in Survivor. That reminded me that I wrote a poem about third-place Survivor finishes a few months back, so I figured I should post it here for that posterity stuff.
Let’s remember the third-place player,
The elite that served us well.
The best Survivor offered up,
Before it went to hell.
The curse of the third-place player?
They were the best to play the game.
Runner-ups for the last tribal council,
We’ve made legends of their name.
To Rudy Boesh, the first to fall,
He tried to take a stand.
But Richard Hatch just cut his throat
By taking down his hand.
Keith Famie, a sophomore slump
That proves our rule is true.
“It should have been Tina,” the viewers said,
But Colby let her through.
And then came Lex, that manic punk,
He had to be toppled twice.
First production fucked it up,
Then his stomach paid the price.
Kathy O, we knew ye well.
You should have won the prize.
But when night fell, your bestest friend
Shanked you right before our eyes.
Of course there’s Jan, of whom I know the least.
Someone else should write this verse.
In retrospect, the season gets fan love,
But I still think it’s the worst.
Rob C from Amazon is called
“The Best to Never Win.”
But a model and a hatchet man
Were quick to do him in.
Big John Dalton stepped up Rob’s game
While he was on the show.
But a leprechaun in a Boy Scout dress
Told him he’d have to go.
There was a time when third place
Meant you were the very best.
Now that there’s a final three,
That legend’s put to rest.
But we will remember these and more,
those beasts that stole the show.
And someday the final two will come back,
To help our legends grow.
Judge me. I’m fine with it.