Thursday Morning Cupcheck - The Ballad of Ricky and Webby

Finally, the hard-hitting hockey journalism in verse you've been asking for all this time.

Good morning, hockey fans! Last week we took a closer look at the finer points of the NHL's CBA offer. This week --rather than discuss the unbridled awesomeness of the Dallas Stars' surprisingly affordable signing of the league's scariest hitter, Mark Fistric-- we're going to turn our Yoda-trained eye to the Two Things That Happened. Namely, the Predators matching the ridiculous offer sheet for Shea Weber, and the Rangers mortgaging their future for Rick Nash.

The first two tracks are ok, but the last ten songs are just the muffled screams of drowning men crying for help.

We were originally planning on discussing these earth-shattering events in the postmodern gender-neutral medium of fecalcentric performance art, but after last night's losing battle against an unthawed Jose Ole frozen chimichanga, we opted to open your eyes and expand your consciousness using verse instead.

Detroit still wears red,

Rick Nash now wears blue

He doesn't play defense,

But who gives a poo?

What's that, Pulitzer Committee? You already want to give us all the awards? Well, hold on, 'cause we're not done blowing your offseason hockey-starved minds just yet! Let's kick it up a notch and go full limerick:

There once was a man from Columbas

A cesspool of vermin and swamp gas,

"Back there was quite sucky,

I'm now very lucky,

Words words words words words words Lundqvist's stank-a$$."

We'd tell you what we did there, but until you get a valid poetic license --not that fake one you use to sneak in to the Young Poetesses of Dayton club on Tuesday nights-- you just wouldn't understand. But it's not all about Rick Nash driving the Rangers to mediocrity here. Shea Weber, too, has earned the unparalleled glory of our keen observational eye:

There once was a d-man from Nashville,

Who liked to smash heads for the thrill,

The Flyers said "Hey!

We like how you play!

Our fanbase is mentally ill!"

Wait--there's more!

In addition to the $110 million, Nashville will provide free on-ice diaper-changing services every time Webby is deked out of his skates.

There once was a d-man from Nashville,

Who was approached by a man with a quill:

"Yea, O Great Crom!

Let's make Crosby's mom

Wish she'd not missed that birth control pill!"

Alas, the Flyers were the classic victims of their own hubris, and the Predators brought the once-proud Philadelphia franchise lower than Ed Snider's estrogen count. But what should we expect moving forward?

Pictured: Rick Nash and Brad Richards model the Rangers' zesty new third jerseys.

There once was a d-man named Shea,

Who took millions to come back and play,

It could very well be

The biggest news Tennessee

Has seen since the ol' KKK.

But the grand art of poetry does not limit itself to the twin Muses of athleticism and history. Nay! It also serves as a warning to future generations not to repeat the mistakes of their ancestors:

There once was a GM named Glen,

Who enjoyed signing slow older men,

But he found out too late

That while Rick Nash could skate,

He played hockey like Ice Dancer Ken.

That's it for this week's hard-hitting hockey journalism. Tune in next week when we discuss Semin's $150 million contract with the Detroit Red Wings, using the power of interpretive dance. Our jiggling may surprise you.