WRITTEN BY- Robertson Davies’ Beard
Written with the greatest of apologies (and a wee bit of good natured shame) to Clement Clarke Moore, the author of the classic poem “Twas The Night Before Christmas.”
I’d also like to state up front that although I tried, I was unable to find a way to come up with any rhymes that would have allowed me to sprinkle the names of Mark Borowiecki , Angus Crookshank, Corey Cowick or Mike Sdao into this poem. I’m also hoping that Dave Chirp’s next ChirpEd poetry assignment for me will end up being a bit shorter. A haiku for free agent frenzy day would be just fine with me.
Twas The Night Before Draft Day Christmas
Twas the night before Draft Day when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even Bob Rouse.
NHL Jerseys were hung by the computer with care
In hopes that Lafrenière would soon be there.
Socially distanced Sens fans were nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of Stutz-Field, Rossi and Raymond danced in their heads.
Tampa adds another Sergachev. Oh crap!
A trade to announce, oh snap!!!
Bettman at the podium, the boos still matter
I refresh TSN to watch the panel and their chatter,
That kid can sure shoot, skate, and crash.
Arizona, oh the nutters there made such a hash.
I think the Islanders just chose the next Garth Snow
Save the bluster of draft day Lou Lamoriello.
When what to Dorion’s eyes should appear
But the next Marian Hossa, and a tiny Xavier.
A hard to the net driver, so feisty and quick
Compares well to Foligno, Nick
More rapid than Jay Beagle his drafters they claim.
Fans whistle, and chirp, and call Dubas lame
Now, Alexis! Now Tim! Now, Marco! Now Quinten!
On Hendrix! On Jacob! On Seth! On Rodion!
From the top of the draft to the last of them all,
Pick them all I say! Stash ‘em away. Now let them play!
I feel sorry for Habs fans, oh my,
Poor old Montreal, they drafted a dead guy.
Yet another promising draft they blew.
A draft so full of toys, even a Nick Lidstrom or two.
And then, on twitter, I saw the proof
Sens fans dancing and acting rather aloof.
Dorion had played his hand, picks for the Sens did abound.
Alas! Calling into SportsNet Melnyk was found.
His words a mess, his eyes a blur, foot in mouth for sure
New Sens clothes all varnished to flash and toot
All the new player we’re bringing back;
If I could reach through the TV, I’d give him a smack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
Sens picks were toasted, applauded by Garrioch and Cherry.
Some trolls did mouth some complaints we know,
But ol’ Dorion had proved ready for the show.
No dummy, our Pete, in 2018 he drafted Brady – son of Keith,
Grinning, he showed the league his smiling teeth
He added 10 new faces, and offered up a Neiler celly to boot.
That crook! Some laughed. That bandit! Some raged at their telly.
Chummy and a bit frumpy, it’s true, posing for a selfie he looks good.
The draft is how we all saw him, in spite of ourselves.
A twinkle in his eye, still some hair on his head;
Soon gave me to know I had no Sens picks to dread.
He spoke no dad jokes, but instead praised his scouts’ work
And the cupboards all filled with top players, he said with a twerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose
And, giving a Bryan Murray style nod to the assembled, he rose.
Fans sang they had won the day, to Pete they gave an appreciative whistle,
Though some still complained about the rose and the thistle
(and still wanted Zadina)
But I swear I heard him exclaim, ere he finished his work on draft night,
HAPPY DRAFT-DAY-CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL SENS FANS A GOOD-NIGHT!
