T’was the night before face-off and all through the rink,
All the Referees were partying and farting up a stink;
The hot-dogs were served by the concession stand with care,
In hopes that more Weevils soon would be there;
The little puckers were nestled all snug in their beds,
Whiles visions of game winning goals danced in their heads;

And Hockey Mamma in her morning coffee and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a phat winters nap,
When out on the ice there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a puck,
Tore open the shutters and the window shade flew up.
The moon on the breasts of a new ice girls snow,
Gave the lustre of hockey night to all objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a minature Zamboni sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and hammy,
I knew in a moment it must be the infamous Hockey Granny.

More rapid than Viagra, her giant soup spoon it came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Yo Teno! Now Mad Cow! Sattora! Now, Weber and Pinna!
On Diddle, C’mon Universal, Yo Bmoore and Myze , Toad and Regan!
To the top of Granny’s Porch! To the top of the wall!
Now skate away! Skate away! Skate away Weevils!”