THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS: Red Wings Mad Libs Edition

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you took a classic holiday poem and decided to play Mad Libs with it by inserting things from your favorite hockey team?   Well, I did and let’s just say that I’m kind of sorry.   But I’ll share with you what I came up with anyway, and hey if you are board this holiday season try to come up with one for your favorite team.  Here it is …

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS: Red Wings Mad Libs Edition

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through The Joe

Not a creature was twirling, not even an octopi;

The banners were hung by the rafters with care,

In hopes that Lord Stanley soon would be there;

The players were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of clean bills of health danced in their heads;

And Mike in his fedora, and Mr. I in a limo,

Had just settled down for an old winter game,

When out on the river there arose such a clatter,

They sprang from their office to see what was the matter.

Away to the entrance they flew like a flash,

Tore open the doors and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to the city below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight Wings of the past,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be Budd Lynch.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Sawchuk! now, Aurie! now, Lindsay and Howe!

On, Delvecchio! on Able! on, Konstantinov and Yzerman!

To the top of the RenCen! to the top of the bridge!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the top of the Motor City they flew,

With the sleigh full of eleven cups, and Budd Lynch too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the rink

The stopping and starting of each skate blade.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the from the dressing room Mr. Hockey came with a bound.

He was dressed in full gear, from his head to his foot,

And his sweater was all tarnished with blood and puck marks;

A bundle of Lord Stanley’s cups he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a fighter just waiting for the first attack.

His eyes — how they twinkled! his elbows how scarry!

He was ready to fight Don Cherry!

The wood stick he held tight in his giant hands,

And the shot it would fire would light up the lamp;

He was skillful and tough, a right old Red Wing,

And I starred in amazement when I saw him;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know the Bruins had everything to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled the net; then fought with a jerk,

And waving his fingers to the fans who rose,

And giving a nod, up the rafters he goes;

He sprang to great heights, to his crowd gave a whistle,

And away the team skated like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he skated out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”