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!


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