State of...Insomnia

I'm a big dork. I get it. And after this post, I won't soon be able to deny it. Oh well, so be it. After the last post I was still awake and began working on my own adaptation of A Visit Before Christmas (or more commonly know as Twas the Night Before Christmas). My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore - at least he's not around to witness the following butchery:

'Twas the night before Stanley when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even Bettman that louse;

The sticks were propped up by the chimney with care,

In anticipation that St. Nik (Lidstrom) soon would be there;

Canadians were nestled so snug in their beds,

While visions of Game Seven double OT danced in our heads...

Mamma in her jersey, and I with a Leafs cap,

Had just settled down to study the Trap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.

Away to the sofa I flew like Horcoff ‘08,
Threw open the door and unlocked the gate.

The tape on the garage the colour of new-fallen snow
Outlined the image of a goalmouth below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Alex Ovechkin in his Caps hockey gear.

With a wicked ‘ol wrist shot, so lively and quick,
A tinted half-visor and a curved hockey stick.
His accurate shooting part of his claim to fame,
Then he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now top shelf! Now five hole! Now glove side you Vixen!”
On target! On target! On target and Blitzin’!
To the top of the hash marks he still made the call!
”Now fire away! Fire away! Fire away all!”

I sat there and watched the pucks continue to fly,
When they met with the door they flew to the sky,
So up to the house-top the rubber it flew,
He scored from all angles and blindfolded too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The huffing and puffing I thought was a goof,
I held up my wrist shot, and was turning around,
There stood Leafs GM Burke, a sight to be found.

He was dressed all in blue, from his head to his toe,
And his hair was all messy from his trip from the Joe;
A heavy ol’ bundle he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler about to open his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
Even his gaudy blue suit he must have got from Don Cherry!
An ear-to-ear grin donned a Coach Ron in tow,
And his reason for happiness was starting to show;

The knot on the sack he undid with his teeth,
The object so shiny like a sword from its sheath
It had a wide bottom but a nice slim mid belly,

And a big bowl on top you could fill with grape jelly.

About 4’ and stocky, but seemed to carry itself,
I’ve got a similar trophy that sits on my shelf.
A glint of silver, nothing need more be said,
I grabbed that there trophy and raised over my head;

Burke spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
A Tavares on Draft Day would be quite a perk.
And laying his finger on the side of his nose,
To bring Stanley home, now smelled like a rose;

He sprang to his feet, gave Coach Ron his whistle,
And away they both went at the speed of a missile.
But I heard him shout out, as he flew out of sight,
"We’re keeping Lord Stanley and we’ll put up a fight."



Ho Ho Ho....Merry Stanley Cup Finals!!!

Cheers,
LW