With apologies to Don McLean.

With apologies to Don McLean – not the guy who sits next to Don Cherry on HNIC, the singer/songwriter – I give you an ode to another lost season:

Bye, Bye Mr. Peddie Bye Bye. 

Not a long, long time ago…
I can still remember
How that jersey used to make me smile.
And I knew if they had their chance
The Leafs could make the damn puck dance
And maybe hold a late lead for a while.

But February made me shiver
As crucial points were not delivered.
Bad news on the scoresheet;
I couldn’t take one more defeat.

Well, I can’t remember if I cried
When we lost eight zip to a Panthers side
Whose hockey skills I must deride.
The day the season died.

So bye-bye, Mr. Peddie bye-bye
Drove my patience to the limit
And the limit was high
When will our boys be drinkin’ whiskey and rye
From a Cup – before the day that I die?
One Cup before the day that I die?

Did you read the book of rules
And do you have faith that Gary Bettman drools
If Don Cherry tells you so?
Do you believe in Johnny Pohl
Can Raycroft stop one single goal,
And can you teach me how to start real slow?

Well, I know that you’re in love with them
‘Cause I saw them trying to defend
As if they’d been drinking booze
Man, I hate it when we lose.

We were an awful power play scorin’ group
And Jason Blake stunk worse than monkey poop
But I knew I was done with this troop
The day the season died.

I started singin’
“Bye-bye Mr. Peddie bye bye
By sweaty Franceschetti
and Tim Horton on high
When will our boys be drinkin’ whiskey and rye
From a Cup – before the day that I die?
One Cup before the day that I die?

Now for three years, we’ve been on our own
While other teams played in the playoff zone
But that’s not how it used to be.
When Pat Quinn coached and worked as our G.M.
In a style the press was too quick to condemn
And the playoffs were almost guaranteed.

Oh and while Pat Quinn was looking ’round
Some arsehole hired this JFJ clown
Leaf Nation was concerned
No glory was returned.
And while Fergie tried to make his mark
Signing Jason Allison on a f@#*ing lark
Our D showed holes big as Yellowstone Park
You and Fergie laboured on in the dark
‘Til the day the season died.

We were singin’
Bye, bye Mr. Peddie bye-bye
By Sittler, Salming, Ellis
Kennedy and Vaive
When will our boys be drinkin’ whiskey and rye
From a Cup – before the day that I die?
From the Cup before the day that I die?

Helter skelter in a summer swelter
Is not a plan to make your GAA grow svelter
(3rd worst in the league and growing fast)
This team smells foul like intestinal gas
It can’t complete a simple breakout pass
And the Captain has a weak supporting cast.

Now the pre-season air was sweet perfume
Coach Maurice guaranteed that soon
“We will get to the dance”
Oh, but we never got the chance!
’cause the players wandered far afield
With Woz on ice the goals they’d yield
Their lack of talent was revealed
The day the season died.

We started singin’
Bye, bye Mr. Peddie bye-bye,
Drove my patience to the limit
And the limit was high
When will our boys be drinkin’ whiskey and rye
From a Cup – before the day that I die?
One Cup before the day that I die?

Oh, and there we were all in one place
A hopeful Nation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on, Fletch be nimble, Fletch be quick
Fletch get someone with a hockey stick
Who knows his way ’round both rink ends.

Oh and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
As Sundin was dissed because
He wouldn’t waive that No-Trade-Clause!
And as the Bruins scored six that night
To light the tired Leaf goal light
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the season died.

He was singin’
Bye, bye Mr. Peddie bye-bye
By sweaty Franceschetti
and Tim Horton on high
When will our boys be drinkin’ whiskey and rye
From a Cup – before the day that I die?
One Cup before the day that I die?

I met a fan with a pair of blues
And I asked him for some happy news
But he just smiled and turned away.
I went down to that sacred spot,
Where Keon scored, and Clarkie fought
But the man there said the team wouldn’t play.

And in the streets the Leaf fans screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The franchise was just broken.
And the three men I admire most
John Bower, Punch, and Jacques Plante’s ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the season died.

And they were singin’
Bye, bye Mr. Peddie bye-bye
By Sittler, Salming, Ellis
Kennedy and Vaive
When will our boys be drinkin’ whiskey and rye
From a Cup – before the day that I die?
One Cup before the day that I die?