Blood on the Ice, a poem by James R. Muri

Blood on the Ice

James R. Muri
Copyright 1999

"We Are The Champs"
Is shrieking from the amps
And the parents and the fans are in their seats

The intros are made
Then the anthem is played
Before the puck is dropped at skated feet

Then there's blood, blood, blood on the ice
'Cause even good sports don't always play too nice
There're sticks in the air and sweat in their hair
Bruise upon bruise and pain everywhere
Then there's a two-hole slap that hits nothing but air
And the period ends at center ice

The other team gets mad
They hurt our boys real bad
Then Arnold's gone with a broken arm

But when the second period ends
One-zip the score still stands
And the crowd howls like an angry storm

'Cause there's blood, blood, blood on the ice
The rock'em and the sock'em hasn't been too awful nice
When the Zamboni's done and its last lap is run
The third period face-off starts the final fun
There's a bit of masochist in the blood of everyone
And the pain of a solid check adds extra spice

The final minutes fly
We'll keep our lead or die
And the penalty box stays pretty full

It's check and pass and scoot
Fake and move and shoot
While their coach roars like an angry bull

And there's blood, blood, blood on the ice
But now the players are quiet, calm and extra nice
'Cause the horn has at last blown the game's final blast
And the winners raise their sticks and can finally relax
And the parents are glad that the mayhem is past
Until next week, when we play again - twice.

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