Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
by James Finn Garner
A colossal slugger named Barry
Had an outlook cheerful and merry,
Til you ask if his muscles
Come from workout room hustle,
Then he’ll threaten to rip your arms off and shove them up your ass because you’re always picking on him.
by James Finn Garner
Barry Bonds put himself to the test,
To beat Babe Ruth’s tally his quest.
To be home run king,
He would try anything.
So what if he grew some huge breasts?
My wife has up and left me,
Once the object of her lust.
Now she’s hitting the clubs with a biker named Dubs,
–But at least the Yankees lost.
An audit’s hit my company.
My future’s bitten the dust.
You can forward my mail to a federal jail.
–But at least the Yankees lost.
We’re spreading our democracy,
Whatever may be the cost,
Or whether the others are given their druthers.
–But at least the Yankees lost.
Atmosphere’s been heating up,
Melting the permafrost.
The polar bears lately can’t count on their safety.
–But at least the Yankees lost.
Famine, wars, disease and hate–
Our poor world is tempest-toss’d.
I cannot tell you why we must suffer and die.
–But at least the Yankees lost.
Trekking to a mountain wise man,
I registered my disgust.
“Dear pilgrim,” said he, “what will be will be
–But at least the Yankees lost!!”
By Stu Shea
Bud Selig won’t say if he’ll go
When Bonds has his really big show
And sets the new mark
For hits out of the park,
‘Cuz the Commish ain’t a man to eat crow.
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