The skip stood apart in the crowded room
Where a babble of talk made a horrid din.
In deep thought, he stood, with a look of doom
As he pondered the plight his rink was in.
His lips gave a twitch, as I walked past,
And softly I heard him begin to pray:
Dear Lord, we need your help as in the past
When we take the ice this very day!
Grant your aid, I pray, to my curling band,
When soon we step upon the curling ice,
And may my rink curl so very grand,
They'll be on the broom once or twice.
For my lead, I ask, that he have his weight;
For my second, I pray he delivers on broom;
May my vice, I beg, a strong house create;
May our take-outs sound like a sonic boom!
One last thing I'll add to this earnest plea,
And I ask from my heart with pious lip,
If you can't help our rink to victory,
Please Lord, don't help the other skip!