What light through yonder standings board breaks?
And yea verily, they say,
Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, and yet -
We of the Board accept thy clinch’d mantle.
Aye; the media itself is hoarse
That croaks the spangled entrance of our squad
Upon the playoffs.
Now - to business.
Come, you wingers:
Pate, Farmleague, Shuffles, Litts and Fly -
Tend on multiple goal thoughts, undress the Bruins here,
And fill Rask’s helm to the toe top-full with the cilantro
Of direst cruelty! make thick my beer;
And stopper the access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of Marchand
Shake thy fell purpose, nor keep peace between
Bergeron and Litts!
Come, Bruins, to be ensnared in Buff’s embrace,
Let the mauler be maul’d well.
Go!