A long, long time ago,
Few can still remember
How his magic used to light up eyes.
And he knew if he had a chance,
That he could make those Penguins dance,
And maybe champions on the steely ice.
But then a Mayday! call was heard,
Come from a crash at Brière Curve,
Thrown clear, bodily wrecked,
He never took one more step.
Death that night would come to two
Including him in powder blue
His loss, Quebec and Pittsburgh mourned,
Mayday in Val-d’Or.