Mar 152010
 

The goalie grinned, unfixed his pad and threw it from his leg,
Then told about a shot he’d stopped one night in Winnipeg

“That shot,” said he, “was moving fast. I can almost feel it yet:
For it bent me in the middle and it hurled me through the net,

Through the backboards and the red brick wall and when  I scrambled to my feet
I discovered I was standing on the sidewalk in the street!

But I sold the puck to someone (that was clever don’t you think?)
For a buck to buy a ticket to get back inside the rink.

“Some shot!” laughed the defenseman, “But one I’ll not forget
I took myself one night and, as it whistled o’er the net

They say it took a brick out in the arena near the roof
And it won a game a mile away—but of course I have no proof.”

“That’s the very night,” he said, “That I bodychecked Bill Gawk
And the last I saw of William he was sailing o’er the clock!

But the next day in the paper  I was stunned to read the news
That he’d played the last ten minutes for a team in Syracuse.

 Leave a Reply

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

(required)

(required)