Mortadella and Overcooked Carrots

Verse 1 Tonight in Montreal, we saw quite the show, The Lightning flew fast while we… slept down below. Three goals in ten minutes — a full-on deep fry, In the net, our goalies carved statues on the fly. Chorus 🎵 Oh, mortadella, mortadella, The trophy goes to our two sentinels forever! One for Dobes, one for Monty, They served up goals like stuffed ravioli! Mortadella, mortadella, Our net shook like a trembling citadel-a… But not theirs, no, not tonight: The Lightning’s goal shone like a mirror in the light! 🎵 Verse 2 Our skaters on the ice looked a little spaced out, As if returning from a buffet, without a doubt. A special contest awaited them that night: Overcooked carrots don’t give much fight! Bridge And we in the stands prayed for just one save… But Dobes and Monty played peekaboo with the cage. Kucherov was laughing, Point danced round the rink, A shameful Tuesday — that’s what we all think! Chorus 🎵 Oh, mortadella, mortadella, The trophy goes to our two sentinels forever! One for Dobes, one for Monty, They dropped the pucks like loose spaghetti! Mortadella, mortadella, The Lightning scored like kids at school… And we kept wondering through it all: Why do we play soft like a floppy sausage roll? 🎵 Verse 3 But tell me, friends of the “Glorious” few, Why do they play so soft when the game’s at home, too? On the road they soar, skate like eagles in the sky, But in Montreal… they’re furniture, I can’t lie. Finale So tonight let’s raise our glasses (of water, just to be kind), To our goalies dreaming of Italy in their mind. Mortadella for some, carrots for the others, And a three-goal head start for the Lightning… blame no one but our brothers! Final Chorus 🎵 Mortadella, mortadella, A pink-and-yellow trophy for our two sentinels forever! And if on Thursday they’d like us to be amazed, They’d better leave those floppy sausages… in the chalet’s icebox for days!