Yo! That we now have here
But 49 of those wins in Winnipeg
That have become commonplace to-day!
If we are mark'd to play again before St. Laurent
And get our D-men toss’d; and if to live,
The fewer players, the greater share of honour.
And I pray thee, wish well for one win more.
By
Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth drink beer upon my cost;
But if it be a sin to covet Jets wins,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, my brothers, wish not a fan for Montreal, God's peace.
For Drouin, Gallagher, and Galchenyuk are berefit of honour:
They will squeeze zero goals methinks from our D,
That’s the best hope they have.
That Price which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him saddle up;
Our four lines shall romp and play,
And pucks for convoy put into his crease;
This day shall gentle his condition;
And the Canadien’s faithful in the masses at Bell Centre
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not, in spirit, aligned with us,
While we quaff our cilantro begat cheap,
While Habs fans squeak,
Before this game upon an April's day.