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They came around from near and far
Some came on foot, some came by car
The greatest game on ice, it is told
Not a ticket was to go unsold
On the center rink, that very night
America’s
best would flex their might
Their opponent came from far abroad
From the heavens, they were God’s squad
The unlikely match of man and myth
Set to settle the Almighty’s tiff
Growing weary of man’s absent praise
He set to make them see his ways
The NHL agreed to his terms
And orders came to the betting firms
Moses, Jesus, Cain and Abel
Adam and Eve on dish and cable
The U.S.
team takes center rink
The game’s commencement on the brink
The puck is dropped, the game begins
On the line are all of man’s sins
Game hard fought ‘til the third period
Penalties amass in a telltale myriad
Cain is ejected for stabbing a goalie
This war on ice is something unholy
The game does not lack skill or grace
Those type of things still have their place
Moses parts through defenders with ease
Much as he would many high seas
Abel must leave while bleeding profusely
America
holds to its lead quite loosely
Adam, then Eve make goals as they shoot
Making up to God for the forbidden fruit
But soon comes the end of regulation
A tie between God and his creation
A shootout ensues between the team’s players
“This will be the end” say the doomsayers
Goal for goal is matched as the war goes on
Spirit wages against America’s
brawn
Fans torn by a sudden new standard
To root for the sport or the lord they had slandered
America’s
star goes down with a contusion
The game may soon reach its conclusion
In order to win, it will take no more luck
God’s team must just block this next puck
They bring off the bench their prized possession
He to which we must give our confession
The lord’s son lines up into the net
And pulls down his mask to show he is set
Not phased by this change of personnel
America
responds to avoid certain hell
They bring the reserve with a potent slapshot
Giving it their all with all that they’ve got
He leaps over the wall and stumbles at first
Then finds his footing and takes off in a burst
The disk is now placed in front of his skate
He starts down the ice to meet this new fate
Tossing the puck from his left to his right
Always keeping the object in sight
As he crosses mid-rink, he looks up and glares
At the thousands of fans with neglected prayers
Resuming his focus, he gives Jesus a look
And lines up his shot that he intended to hook
Reaching back and accruing his power
He takes his shot and creates an ice shower
Time takes a timeout as the world stands still
The game boiling down to this one final thrill
The fans on their feet as the puck nears the goal
Fate now on the line for their very soul
Jesus’ glove reaches up for the stop
But down through his legs the puck does now flop
From this day forth, Americans shall now rave:
It is souls, not goals that the Lord should save
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