Browse all poems and songs in the 'Stu Shea' Category


Oh, You’ve Got Yourself a No-Trade Clause! (By Dr. T.S. Geisel)

By Stu Shea

You may think you’ve traded me,
For some prospect at Pulaski,
But call my agent–he knows laws.
I have myself a no-trade clause!

I will not go to this new town,
I will not go by air or ground!
You should have asked before you dealt,
Before you tried to swap my pelt,
If I would play for Greeber City,
Feembertown,
Or Veedenvelt.

 



The Boy

By Stuart Shea

The boy
Held a passel of baseball cards
Dating from before his birth
(His time on earth
Not even a thought)
With joy

 



Fair Ball Lined into His Nuts

by Stuart Shea

The bigger they are, the more they hurt…
So Juan Uribe got a just dessert
With a liner in the groin.
And that’s not a roll of coins,
And he’s NOT happy to see you.

 

From GQ: Juan Uribe Has a Very Good Excuse for Not Wearing a Cup



Sox Machine, Gears Stripped

by Stuart Shea

The Sox Machine has broken down.
J-Roll is rolling out of town,
The latest on Latos isn’t good—
He’s available in trade for a cord of wood.
Nobody thinks it’s the manager’s fault
That the bullpen’s a victim of nightly assault
While the power hitters ain’t hittin’ or powerin’—
And it’s far too late to re-sign Moose Skowron.

 



Bryce is Nice

by Stu Shea

The harpies harp on Harper
They say he’s immature
I’ll take him and his moods
Whether pure, poor, or manure.

 

AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

Poems by Type

AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.