‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through C-bus
Not a creature was stirring, to hear the coach cuss
The roster was stocked by the GM with care
In hopes that some victories soon would be there
The 5th Line was nestled all snug in their beds
While visions of Stanley Cups danced in their heads
With mamma in her scarf and I in my kepi
Had settled down to scan the long winter schedule
When out on the ice there arose such a clatter
I sprang to my laptop to see what was the matter
Away to the screen I flew with great speed
Clicked open the browser and pulled up the tweets
The gleam of the water on zamboni’d ice
Gave lustre to the cannon, it looked very nice
When what to my wondering eyes should it seem
But a miniature coach and his full hockey team
With a New England accent, so vulgar and coarse
I knew in a moment it must be Coach Torts
More rapid than eagles his skaters they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
“Now Korpi, now Nuti, now Bob, Z, and Jonsey!
On Bjorky, On Dubi, On Bread, Luc, and Andy!
To the top of the crease! To the puck at the wall!
Now crash away! crash away! crash away all!”
His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, it was really quite scary.
His droll little mouth was drawn down in a frown,
And his beard quickly turning to white from brown.
The stump of a whistle he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke from his ears around his head like a wreath
He wore a track suit that looked very sporty,
And shook when he laughed after snapping at Porty.
He spoke no more words then went back to his work,
And glared at his players, who thought he was a jerk.
But it would all pay off, he told them, quite soon,
As they shuffled off to their locker room.
They went to the break, to rest up for three days
To get themselves healthy, and improve the power play,
Then I heard him exclaim, one more time to his team,
“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, LET’S WIN IN ‘18!”