Thus is Edmonton’s cheek the map of Oilers outworn,
When Skinner lived and died as flowers do now,
Before the bastard signs of a Drysaddle were born,
Or durst inhabit, like a flea, on carcass’d Oil’d cow;
Today, the Orange tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchres, shall be shorn away,
Thrive will our second line on McDrai’s head;
Ere Vilardi's renew’d fleece live another day:
In Lowsy these holy antique hours are seen,
Without sir Kupari, himself’s upper body skewed,
But yo, Shuffles and JoMo make summer of Oily spleen,
Helly robbing McJaysus to dress his beauty new;
Scotty’s lengthy coach bounce doth Nature safely store,
To show false Art and slatterns Oil’d of yore.