A timely re-work of the lyrics to the Johnny Cash classic, Folsom Prison Blues:
I hear the Eight Train a comin'; he's charging down the wing,
And if he gets me, I'll be leaving this rink in a sling.
I'm tryin' to hold the blue line; but he keeps rollin' on.
Ovechkin's got those crazed eyes, and now our lead is gone.
When he was just a baby, his mama told him, "Son,
Always play in high gear; and feel free to have your fun."
So he throws around his body, he never stops to ask why.
When I hear Eight's whistle blowin,' I hang my head and cry.
I bet there's rich folk eatin' in a fancy corporate box.
They're loving when he crushes D-men like a wild ox,
They know they had it comin', they know they can't be free,
When I see him hop that bench door, I know he'll torture me.
Well, if they gave him a suspension, let him sit and think,
Surrounded him with ladies, and vodka fit to drink,
They think that he might tone it, play with less reckless glee,
But the Eight Train keeps a rollin,' that's how he's born to be.