First place, or not first place: in the Central division:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The
non sequitur of a Hartman acquisition,
Or to set loose Stastny against a sea of Predators,
And by opposing end them?
Jets third line will sleep;
No more; and HFBoards’ll witness a shyte-tonne of goals
To administer heart-ache and a thousand natural shocks
The Preds flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sweep;
To sweep the ice free of baseball caps: ay, there's the rub;
For in that hattrick of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled home from this Bell/MTS coil.