Twas the night before Machado, when all through the thread;
Not a poster was stirring, they'd all gone to bed.
Bob Nightengale with his smoke and the local news stations;
Had prepped all us Sox fans for more negotiations.
When out of the blue there arose such a clatter.
I went straight to my news feed to see what was the matter.
I searched for Machado and sorted by top.
Excited and nervous to see what would drop.
When to my wondering eyes did appear?
But $250 million for a term of eight years!
With a crafty, young GM so lively and quick;
I knew in a moment he must be Saint Rick.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to work.
And as the contract was signed, he gave me a smirk.
He sprang back to the Rate, to his team gave a whistle.
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight;
Merry Machado to all, and to all a good night!