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Art Holliday's Stanley Cup poem

Shortly after the Blues won The Cup, Art Holliday was already rhyming.

At stake was the trophy, the prize, the Cup

The Bruins were favored, hey Boston, what up!

Game 7, that’s all you need to say

For the Blues fan base it was like Christmas Day

From worst to first is the story line

For long time fans it feels so sublime

Do I look nervous? said J. Binnington

No, but like Kurt Warner, you’re a favorite son

The rookie was a wonderwall

The puck stopped here in this free-for-all

He weathered the storm, save after save

Didn’t blink once in that early heat wave

The Blues scored one, then two, then three

4 to nothing? Are you kidding me?

In January it didn’t look pretty

Trade ‘em, fire ‘em said much of the city

Then came Berube who knew what to do

He had a great plan, much more than a clue

The Blues band of brothers refused to quit

They showed heart and character, a truckload of grit

Ryan O’Reilly, playoff MVP

A trade that paid off, certainly one of the keys

To a Game 7 beatdown, a Blue note blitz

No terrible calls or borderline hits

It took 52 years, half a century and change

A downtown parade we will gladly arrange

We’ve had championship parades in the past

But The Cup on Market Street? It will be a blast

The experts said Boston, but they’re runner-up

St. Louis is kissing Lord Stanley’s Cup