free agents eve

a) im sick


b) this is a lot longer than i remember the poem being


'Twas the night of free agency  and all through the league

the gm's were a-dozing with post draft-day fatique

The contracts were written by the lawyers with care,

In hopes that a big name signature soon would be there;

The fans were nestled all snug in their sweaters,

With visions of ways  their team would surely get better;

And armstrong aphone, and pleau on the go
Had just gotten ready to go on with the show

When out on twitter there arose such a tweet,

I sprang from the bed to sit down in my seat


I googled up all  the names in a flash,

clicked on the links and threw up some who-hash.

The monitor's warm and inviting glow

Gave the lustre of midnight to the list it did show,

When, what to my wondering eyes did i see,

Stl's own gura, the famous Brad Lee,

With a little old IM, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it was treat with no trick.

More rapid than eagles signee rumors. they came,

And he hinted, and alluded, and would call them by name;

"Now, Demitra! now, Kubina! now, Gonchar and McKee!

Signed Corvo! or Kovy! or, Nolan and Pisani!

refresh game-time! surf  back to espn!

Now do it and do it and do it again"

As cap space the blues did certianly need,

heck the minimum spent we had yet to exceed,

So down to the city i drove in my car,

to the free agent party- pretty much just any old bar.

And then, in a haze, I as i saw union station

i saw the head of our great blues nation.

As It rattled my brain, a new gm is in town

 Down 14th, Saint. Armstrong came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his foot to his head.

wait a sec that is louie, god i wished he was dead.

doug was the one sporting the note right there on his back

And he looked like a dealer ready to distribute some smack.

His eyes -- how they darted! his hairline's receding!

His cheeks were bright red, was it blue he was bleeding?

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a sneer,

soon i came to realize i had nothing to fear.

he strode to his office near the corner of clark,

he tuned off the lights and he sat in the dark

for soon the room was alit with the lights of the calls,

from the agents of players the big and the smalls.

He was fast talking and cordial, a consumate pro,

And I laughed when I saw that he was nothing like pleau

A contract was done with a nod of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight back to work,

And filled all the holes; then he added a jerk,

taking his meds for the ease of his colon,

he gave up 3 mill to get owen nolan;

He sprang to scottrade, to his team gave a bonus,

if they would just eliminate our long cupless onus.

and I heard him exclaim, ere the seasons's first puck,

"Happy free agency  to all, and to detroit --- FUCK."

Please make sure that any content you post is appropriate to Game Time, which means that it pertains to hockey, the Blues, frosty adult beverages, or puppies.

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