Twas the night before the frenzy, when all through the league
Not a player was stirring, not even Mike Green.
The contracts were printed from the computer with care,
In hopes that free-agents soon would be there.
The players agents were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of dollar signs danced in their heads.
Their cell phones all charged up, hoping teams would call back,
As GM’s try dealing to stay under the cap.
When out in New York there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to twitter to see what was the matter.
Away to the computer I flew like a flash,
Flipped on the monitor and grabbed the mouse fast
The hockey world was a buzzing as the rumors did flow,
who would opened their check books to have a star sign below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a really big signing and eight minor deals.
For a little over an hour, I pressed refresh quick,
I knew in a moment it must be a trick.
More rapid than eagles the contracts they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Gagne! now, Kaberle! now, Fleischmann and Richards!
On, Connolly! On, Ryder!, on Jovo and White!
To the top of the pay scale! to the top of them all!
Now sign away! Sign away! Sign away all!”
As the Leafs step before the Wild, the Hurricanes still try,
To woo those key players in hopes they would sign.
So up to the Commissioners office the layers they flew,
With the documents full of verbiage, and legal garbage too.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw on my screen,
The Penguins and Red Wings were not in a dream,
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
I heard from a “source” that Jagr was found.
He had a head full of hair, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all fancy with gold buttons to boot.
A bundle of sticks he had flung on his back,
And he looked like he used to, just older and fat.
His eyes-how they squinted! Those eyebrows, how bushy!
His cheeks were all pasty, his nose was all squishy.
His skin was so white, he looked like a ghost,
And the hair of his head was like his mullet of old.
He had a gold plated pen he held tight in his teeth,
And the media they circled hoping he’d speak.
He had a broad face and beady little eyes,
That pierced when he stared, like a 1,000 sharp knives!
He was grumpy and rude, and appeared quite aloof,
And I laughed when I saw him missing that tooth!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I should have stayed in bed.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And signed that big contract, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his pen along the dotted line he did move,
Raised his pen in the air, “It’s Pittsburgh I chose!”
He sprang to his skates, to his fans bid adieux,
And away they all flew in search of Lemieux.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy frenzy day to all, and to all a good sign!”
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Twas the Night Before Free-Agency…
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