by James Finn Garner
Can our boy Judge come out to play?
At noon our foursome tees up.
Sorry, fellas, not today,
He’s sorta mid-spring beat up.
That man Aaron is one hunk of thirst,
The girls at the club wanna meet up.
No no, ladies, training comes first,
He’s a bit mid-spring beat up.
At the hotel, the maids are asking,
Can Judge ever put the seat up?
Bending over? That’s multitasking
For someone mid-spring beat up.
Should I renew my season seats,
Watch my savings get eat up?
Baseball gives your pains surcease
‘Til you get mid-spring beat up.