Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Statistics required perusal
And then came a full-fledged accusal.
Some numbers do lie
Take a look at the guy,
They’ve proven a B. Bonds bamboozle!
Barry Bonds! He’s the muscle-bound Giant
With the rules, he is just non-compliant.
He comes extra large size
Check his biceps and thighs,
And his manner is somewhat defiant!
Posted 7/30/07
by NaryBarry
Barry Bonds is a fearsome home run hitter
Who sends all his fans into quite a twitter.
His manhood has not shrunk
From that steroid junk–
Maybe the judge will be an acquiter.
Last call for alcohol
Last call for your nation at bat
It was that last great league in Irish Town where he never forgets
The crack of the bat feels like the spit of his fame just blowin’ in the breeze
Like the crumbled skeleton staring at the door with its head between its knees
Old skeleton knows where it’s going, night after night after night
To wash its hands of curses, sins of the past 80 years, look in the mirror and cry
For it’s the soul of the league that’s on trial
No longer can a skeleton smile, just shake, like those pep pills and drugs and business that now sweeps it under the rug, while the GAT of the thug is shoved into the back of the big boss who pushes aside the integrity of the game for payoffs and thrills
The record is broken, the record is cast
The crowd doesn’t say much when the dark shadow is cast into stone or the graveyard in the hall
He cast the first shadow, so he did fall
The crowd remains silent
The crowd still remains
Old skeleton washes up in a sea of notoriety
Like the spit of his fame.
Posted 7/19/07
by Phil Lacovara
The melonhead, he was a Giant,
About steroids, he didn’t mind lyin’,
With the Cream and the Clear,
Into pitchers he struck fear,
‘Til into BALCO, the law started pryin’.
7/23/07
They call him the masculine tower
He can hit a home run with such power,
From San Fran’s west coast
And so quick with the boast
“I can do it again in an hour”!
Every fan now has reason to ponder
Every long ball that’s hit way out yonder,
Is the batter legit
Or a crass hypocrite
And a good-name-of-baseball absconder?
From the city of quaint San Francisco
And a blast from his muscular wrist, oh.
Plus a shot in his thigh
You should see the ball fly,
To the town of San Luis Obispo