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The US and Canada, bold and cold,
In Olympic gold, their rivalry’s told.
For the seventh time,
In a clash sublime,
Their border battle never grows old.

There once was a youth hockey game in Rhode Island
Where three people were tragically slain
The suspect, it seems,
Had violent dreams
And now all that’s left is the pain

There once was a director so bold
Whose documentaries did unfold
A history unique
In-depth, no critique
Through movies, his stories were told

There once was a defendant unnamed
Who to ISIS had reportedly claimed
Allegiance one day
In a courtroom display
His fate in the justice system remained

There once was a man named Gray
Whose son caused a terrible fray
With a gun he supplied
Four innocent lives died
Now justice must have its say

There was a masked person they found,
With a gun and a backpack unwound,
Outside Guthrie’s Tucson home,
Where she vanished alone,
In surveillance videos, they’re bound.

There once was a card that was rare,
A Pickachu Illustrator, people did stare,
Sold for sixteen point five,
A collector’s dream alive,
At Goldin Auctions it found a new lair.

There once was a trio so wise,
Rejected monikers in disguise,
“Powerpuff Girls,” they said,
And “Babes of Glory” dread,
Trademark issues they did despise.

There once was a broadcaster named Spain
Who called out the veep in disdain
She received messages vile
But maintained her smile
At Milan Cortina 2026, she did reign

There once was a crime reporter so fine
Who credited an inside source divine
With information so clear
And without any fear
She solved the case with a brilliant mind