by Hilary Barta
Growing fear will explain all the drinking
And the beer steins we’re draining, not clinking
When that magical number
Gets a hand from Cubs’ lumber
We will cheer once again, not get stinking.
Growing fear will explain all the drinking
And the beer steins we’re draining, not clinking
When that magical number
Gets a hand from Cubs’ lumber
We will cheer once again, not get stinking.