The St. Louis Blues are resting up, trying to win their very first Cup. If rhyming is not your thing, turn away now. Click the X with a zing. A hockey inspired turn on a classic from Moore. I’m going ahead now, full steam and full bore.
*Editor’s note. Original poem written by Clement Clarke Moore and text obtained from poetryfoundation.org
‘Twas the day before Playoffs, when all through the house
Every creature was stirring, even a mouse;
The jersey’s were hung, skates sharpened with care,
In hopes that Lord Stanley soon would be there;
The fans were nestled all snug in their sweaters;
While visions of championships made their hearts all a-flutter;
The wife in her t-shirt, me nervously chewing my gum,
Both hoping to settle in for the long spring to come,
While down in the city there arose such a clatter,
Sobotka was back and that’s what was the matter.
Away to the computer I flew with a dash,
Tore open the laptop, fingers writing in a flash.
The twinkling lights of St. Louis below,
A few drunken fans annoyingly bellowed,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a silver chalice with cup and eight tiers,
With a white gloved handler so stately like a bishop,
I knew in a moment he must carry the Cup.
More from Editorials
- St. Louis Blues Need Kasperi Kapanen To Be On Best Behavior
- Hayes’ Debut And Other Bold Predictions for the St. Louis Blues
- St. Louis Blues Captaincy Is Suddenly A Huge Problem For 2023-24
- St. Louis Blues National Games Cause More Problems Than They’re Worth
- St. Louis Blues Brayden Schenn Has To Be An Impact Player In 2023-24
More rabid than wolves his pursuers, they came,
Then NBCSports shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Blues! now, Predators! now Wild and Oilers!
On, Penguins! on, Capitals! on, Blackhawks and Rangers!
To the top of the ratings! It’s better right now than it was in the fall.
Our butt-kissing of Chicago annoys one and all!”
The Leafs are finally in, with a young star that can fly,
If Washington loses early again, the fans will surely cry;
To the rinks and arenas the challengers flew
With teams full of stars, and Ryan Reaves too— (love ya Reavo)
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing of Senators, quoting Star Wars to boot.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Jake the Snake Allen came in with a bound.
He was dressed in thick pads, from his head to his foot,
With fans running behind him yelling in your crease stay put!;
Tarasenko appeared, Blues hopes flung on his back,
And he looked like a cat just stealing a snack.
His eyes—how they twinkled! his Cheshire-cat grin so merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His scoring was up to the glee of all who had seen,
And the beard on his chin was more fitting of a teen;
The stump of a stick held tight in his grip,
With teammates at the ready to protect him with checks from the hip;
When he said the Blues can win, fans grabbed their round bellies
They shook and they laughed, like spiteful bowls full of jelly.
Still he was cheerful and glee, a right jolly old Russian,
And I started dreaming myself, of parades with percussion;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his stick
Soon gave me more hope, his moves were so slick;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all with hope by scoring; then I woke with a jerk,
It was all just a dream I realized as I sleepily rubbed my nose,
But soon I realized a championship banner could still to the rafters be rose;
The playoffs begin on the morrow quite late,
Despite all the naysayers, we know not our fate
Led by the Snake and Vlady we have nothing to fear
Please, whatever powers that be, let this be our year