Baked Zito

By Stuart Shea

Zito, Zito,
His arm is meat-o.
He goes down
To weekly defeat-o.
His salary is
Really neat-o.
Unless you’re the Giants who may have to eat-o
His contract if he can’t find some team in the National League, or even anywhere at any level of organized baseball, that he can beat-o.

Posted 6/5/08


Published in Players, Pure doggerel, San Francisco Giants, Stu Shea | Link to this poem | No Comments

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