For long have they our fear'd oppressors stood,
And yet, today, their mournful deathly knell
Tolls out. And thusly, eulogize we should.
'Twas but last April when, our heads hung low,
We slunk away from Montreal's puck might;
Today, however, we the spoils show
And send fair Koivu into that soft night.
Farewell, sweet Carey! Oh, and Jaro, too:
Thy supple five-holes sorely shall we miss.
Brave Georges LaRaque! Thy stick flew high and true,
As did Mike Komisarek's. Yea, know this:
I'll shed a tear to see the Frenchmen go,
For, oh, I love to watch them suffer so.