[NOTE: yeah, the meter & rhyme scheme are tortuously hacked, but… live with it. I wrote it in about an hour, so it’s far from perfect. Also, it may be considered sacrilege in some cultures. But hey. It commemorates, of course, the PITTSBURGH PENGUINS’ triumph over the Red Wings. WOOT.]
Once upon an early morn, while I pondered, weak and worn,
On how the Wings had lost their game quite so tragically,
I stumbled out into the street, heard quite distinctly getting beat
Some man (over gambling gone awry); I suddenly began to cry
“Tis just one game,” said I, “a single loss, a single match –
to be repeated nevermore!”
Ah, distinctly I recall that it was just before my fall
Onto the couch plagued with ever-aching, bleary head;
Eagerly I wished the morrow, vainly I had sought to borrow
From my friends a bunch of money – money paid back, I implored –
For to bet upon the game, cash was sorely needed, I implored!
Loaning money, nevermore.
And the wild frenzied drunken howling of each painted Penguin
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before
So that now, to calm the pounding in my head, I approached the fridge
And fetched a beer to quell the quickly rising fear of another Red Wings loss –
To quell the unsuppressible rising fear of another Red Wings loss –
‘Tis impossible! Nevermore!
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
I walked into the living room and turned on the TV –
To my horror, I beheld: a Red Wings fan had been befelled
By a rioting Penguins fan, who was painted white and black;
I turned away and to the door and thought I saw a glimpse of black; –
Hallway there, and nothing more.
Deep into that hallway peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no Wings fan ever dared to dream before
But the hallway was unfoiled, by a Penguin had not been spoiled,
And the only thing I saw was a hatstand against the wall –
A lonely hatstand near a vase of umbrellas –
Merely this and nothing more.
Back unto the TV turning, all the beer within me burning,
Soon I saw the Penguin somewhat clearer than before.
To gather courage I did swig from the bottle mouthfuls big
Then swiftly to the hallway looking, and quite quickly I was booking –
Booking towards the hatstand wherein sat that smug Penguin –
“Wings shall win again, nevermore!”
The Penguin sitting, smugly grinning, mocking my Wings’ lack of winning,
Got my goat like it had never quite been got before;
“Fiend!” I cried, “foul thing of evil!” – and all of this slightly slurred –
“Leave me to my misery; taunt me and be rotisserie!”
Sharp words from my foul mouth flew, accompanied by the bottle –
Quoth the Penguin, “Forevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “creepy bird! Wouldst thou treat me like a turd?
I am but a saddened Wing, grieving for the loss of Wings;
Respite from the memories that haunt me constantly!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind Bud Light, and forget this sad lost day!”
Quoth the Penguin, “Nevermore.” (Or, “Piss off!”)
“Obnoxious bird!” wailed loudly I, “if that is what you truly are –
What kind of bird has wings yet cannot fly? For certainly not I!
I, who have my Wings of Red, soar high above thy hated head!
Dare you I to try to fly off my window-ledge – not high…”
Quoth the Penguin, “Nevermore.” (Or, “You wish.”)
“Be that word our sign of parting!” I shrieked, and stood up farting,
“Get thee back to thy hometown! Leave this place, return back down
to your Pennsylvanian roost, make their rising spirits boost!
Leave my drunkenness unbroken! Quit the hatstand by my door!
Take thy beak out from my heart, and take thy wings from off my door!”
Quoth the Penguin, “Nevermore.” (Or, “In your dreams!”)
And the Penguin, here to stay, still will always get his say
Anything that I may have to place a bet upon in sport
From his beak comes forth an issuing of a mocking cruel retort
From whence he first had made his perch upon my upon my hatstand by the door
And taunts me still of Penguin’s beating of the Wings outside my door –
Shall be shut up – nevermore!