The game is on and a stick fight’s here…
near-spurious to score a goal.
Bone breaks will send some out to be nursed…
doc in the pharmacist role.
No peaceful wo-ork this mayhem,
where beating and bedlam are kings.
This world has swollen bodies that play
in the pursuit of a ring.

Drilled pucks will make cloven lips and gums—
this isn’t a pea-eaceful world.
They’re crashing each other on the boards;
helmets come off and fists curl.
The punches—some connect and cause pain
amounting to much more than stings.
They keep it up and they bash and pound
from winter well into spring.

Amid the blows, sometimes the red light,
mostly dormant, will come on,
meaning that someone has scored a goal;
some playing’s starting to spawn
A man had got himself a clear shot,
but that is really a rare thing,
because mostly what they do it fight
from winter well into spring.

These games do go on for much too long,
though baseball plays the distance role.
At each event you can get some beers,
but better bring your bankroll.
You will never get your money’s worth;
the beer is swill such as “the King.”
You find that while for drinks you were gone,
you missed an ice boxing ring.