The crowd grew restless as the team upon the ice did speed;
They weren’t very happy as the puck refused to heed
The skillful touch upon it that would guide it to its goal.
The padded skaters seemed about to lose complete control.
On the sidelines Sparky and his crew of icemen waited,
Gripping shovels, leaning forward, breath already bated.
The shavings on the crease and slot were piling up in masses,
Slowing down the puck so that it moved like cold molasses.
Many long and weary years had Sparky and his band
Kept the ice smooth-shaven for the fans in hockeyland.
Heedless of advancing age or opposing team’s rude sneer,
Sparky’s dedication earned him nothing but free beer.
“We gotta get the shavings cleared” he said in consternation.
“Get ready, men, to follow me into the V Formation!”
The period was over and brave Sparky flew out splendid,
Determined to be done and gone before the red light ended.
But what was his amazement when the crowd tossed at him bricks,
Yelling in great unison: “We wanna see some chicks!”
“Bring back the Ice Girls that were wont in scanty dress to wriggle
On the ice with wanton eyes and such a charming giggle!”
Sparky finished up his job, then sadly skated back
To the locker room where his old face went white and slack.
The brazen girls were quickly placed beside the big Zamboni,
While Sparky left the building with naught but some sliced baloney.
Based on a story from the New York Times