Structure nicked off the Owl and the Pussycat by Edward Lear.

Big David Clarkson went to the Leafs
in a beautiful blue and white boat,
Dave took his sunnies, got a truckload of money,
And awkwardly cleared his throat.

Randy looked up to the stars above
And sang with a small guitar,
“O lovely David! Oh David my love,
A thirty-goal scorer you are,
You are,
You are,
A thirty-goal scorer you are!”

Dave said to the coach, “You splendid old man!
“How charmingly sweet you sing!
You know, as a Devil, I scored at a level
that made me a top-six right wing!”

But he started the year, his Toronto career,
by leaping the boards in a rage;
defending Phil’s honour, but he was a goner,
the press box transformed to a cage,
a cage,
a cage,
the press box transformed to a cage.

Now the Leafs are a joke, their dreams up in smoke
and from Nonis is heard a great shout:
“Was I on crack? A Rob Ford attack?
Do I keep him or buy the guy out?”

“Don’t do this to me,” wails Dave desperately,
“I’ll prove I’m a scorer I swear!”
But four years remain, 0.2 points per game,
and Toronto is faced with despair,
Toronto is faced with despair.