Bobby V

By Stuart Shea

Bobby V,
You’re killin’ me!
The Red Sox founder
In August flounder,
And Bobby V,
You’re so angry.

You bait the umps,
You say they’re chumps.
The Red Sox sink,
The rotation stinks,
And Bobby V,
It’s kind of funny.

Published in Boston Red Sox, Management, Pure doggerel, Stu Shea, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | No Comments

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