'Twas the night before playoffs, and all through Vancouver
slept overconfident fans unaware their team would be losers.
The skates were all hung in the lockers with care,
awaiting the players that soon would be there.
Luongo was nestled, all snug in his bed
while nightmares of Mike Richards appeared in his head.
Carter rushing forward, King with him on the attack
As Lou braces for position, then falls on his back.
As that first of many, many pucks whistled by
Luongo rolled over, with tears in his eyes
When out of nowhere, his cellphone did ring
and he woke to the voice of his teammate, Henrik Sedin.
"Lou, I'm afraid... and feel a little bit sick,
I'm afraid I can't get one past top goalie Jonathan Quick..."
Luongo interrupted, and was a little bit stern,
"I can't help you there, I've my own concerns!"
When he got back in bed, and tried oh so hard to sleep,
He remembered Kopitar, and Williams, and started to weep.
And Doughty! And Mitchell! And Brown, and Stoll!
He shuddered at visions of goal after goal.
He knew it right then, that his team would fall,
and that once they'd bested Vancouver, the Kings would take all.
... Meanwhile across town, the Kings slept just fine,
each with only one vision, "The cup will be mine!"