THE CONQUEROR WINGS Lo! 'tis a gala night Come now these latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, delights The crowd -- they drown in cheers These champions they see Who played full of hopes and, here, Now the music blares fitfully We are the Champions this year! These Red Wings, in finest form on high, Hold the Stanley Cup and go Hither and thither do they fly -- As they did in casting low In four straight, the Flyers. Things Dreamed of from my youth. And so, Flapping from their mighty wings Onto Phillie the greatest woe! That thrilling drama -- oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With this Phantom Cup held secure Playing out victory's plot. In a circle Yzerman returns, and then Vernon circles to the self-same spot. And much of joy fills the stands when Victory is the soul of the plot. And see, after the joyous rout The tall silver cup held high! A glorious thing that ends all doubt How high these Wings can fly! The Champions, the Champions -- these immortal Wings! The crowd's echoes fill the hall. They've come down from Olympus, sings The Muse to one and all! They shoot, they score, and victory Is ours, as Vernon's form Kicks the shots against them free Of the net. With the rush of a storm, These warriors have defeated all Sent against them. Heaven rings Their triumph, these champions tall, For these are the Conqueror Wings! (Dedicated to the 1997 Detroit Red Wings and especially Vladimir Konstantinov) And now one mission remains For this crew of Champions to write. Rising, the crowd proclaims Across the ice up to new heights, Lo, it is a gala night That shall not be forgot. Each seat Echoes through the arena bright As these Champions arise again -- REPEAT! Return to Beginning