i humbly submit the holiday poem i wrote at 3 am because i couldn’t sleep.
twas 2 nights before christmas
in newark, new jersey
when the bruins arrived
from their long weary journey
pasta was there,
so was swayman and sweeney
along with that big nosed
midget, the weenie.
the team got in late,
they had other priorities.
like signing a guy
who assaulted minorities.
zacha arrived,
with hall and with greer
to find that the culture
had straight disappeared.
‘why are they winning?’
growled ullmark and coyle
as the guys’ tempers
all started to boil.
‘we trimmed all the fat!’
said hughes with a laugh.
‘look at our heat maps,
our corsi and graphs.’
boston just stared,
and started to rage.
with chart after chart,
and page after page.
the stats were all stacked,
and i shit you not-
they accomplished it all
without help from palat.
the bruins retreated,
‘get back to the plane!’
while the devils were waiting
to start up the game.
we’ll get the two points,
it’s eggnog for all!
and that was the start
of the bruins downfall.
feel free to add some verses. LGD!
