by HoraceClarke66
You play thirteen frames and whattaya get?
Another win closer to a-playin’ the Mets
Sonny put in eight and the pen did five
They shut down the Jays and that’s no jive.
If you see us comin’, you better get lost
A lotta teams didn’t and a lot got tossed
One fist’s Giancarlo, the other is Judge
They’ll pound you down to a puddle of sludge.
They was born one mornin’ in an old wood crate
Picked up a bat and walked up to the plate
Hit that ball into the upper deck
Left-a Cashman gaspin’, “Now what the heck?”
You play thirteen frames an’ whattaya get?
Still a game behind Boston, who we ain’t caught yet
Metsies, don’t you cross us ’cause we ain’t got time
We’ll beat you down like some old French mime.
This originally appeared on the Yankees blog, It is High, It is Far, It is . . . caught.