'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the rinkNot a creature was stirring, because of the locker room stink;
The gear was strewn about the locker room without care,
The gear was strewn about the locker room without care,
In hopes that the coach would not come in there;
The practice so tough the players were dreaming of being in their beds,
With visions of unassisted goals dancing in their heads;
And Bonelli still untying his skates, and Scott stopping to think,
Saying, “I’m not going in that locker room because of the stink.”
When out on the rink lot there arose such a clatter,
Kevin sprang from his office to see what was the matter.
Away to the doors he flew like a flash.
Tore open the doors and went out with a dash.
He looked left and right he just didn’t know
The parking lot lights were so dim they failed to show,
When, what to Kevin’s wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature zamboni, and five new players near,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
Kevin knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than speed skaters they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Who! now, What! now, Huh! you forwards three!
On, I’m confused! on Why! You’re the new Wrangler “D”!
He shouted “Get out on the ice! To the blue line!
If you don’t skate quick you’ll ride the pine!"
As short-handed goals cause goalies to sigh
And when a forward’s “dekes” cause the defense to cry,
So out on the ice St. Nick’s players flew,
Just as St. Nick’s zamboni finished cutting the ice too.
Then, in a twinkling, the players transitioning out on the ice
Skating and passing that was oh so nice.
As Kevin glanced at the net, the forward was coming around
Into the net the puck went, the goal horn making a sound.
The players dressed in Wrangler red and black, sock tape from knee to foot,
Congratulating each other because of where the puck was put;
The goalie was still laying on his back,
wondering what just happened on this attack.
St. Nick the coach stood on the bench was so merry!
His cheeks were like roses, he was dressed like Don Cherry!
His skaters hit, skated, and passed so tight,
It looked as if they could have scored goals all night;
The end of a hockey stick St. Nick held tight in his grip,
And he waved it about like a whip;
He had a note pad and rink white board hanging with cords,
He didn’t flinch when a player slammed into the boards.
He was chubby and plump, and full of reason,
And Kevin laughed when he saw him, in spite of the current season;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Letting Kevin know he had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Filling a playbook with plays; then turned with a jerk,
The pen he used was now out of ink,
And giving a nod, got on the zamboni and went out of the rink;
St. Nick’s players saluted Kevin with their sticks held up high,
And then skated away saying “Good bye.”
But Kevin heard St. Nick exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
