He got the ball outside his box
With countenance intense.
Like Maradonna with blond locks,
He charged at the defence.
The ball seemed tethered to his lace
As onwards he cavorted,
And every scared Canadian face
Did seem a mite contorted.
Past the halfway line he ran,
With narrow tunnel vision,
Defenders almost to a man
Were filled with indecision.
And then, as he approached the goal,
At last they came to meet him.
But with his subtle close control,
They simply could not beat him.
A subtle touch and he was through,
The goalie tried to block it,
But there was little he could do,
It went in like a rocket.
The Mounties always get their man,
That may be true enough.
For mostly they stuck to that plan,
But they could not catch Duff.