Browse all poems and songs in the 'Los Angeles Dodgers' Category


Mystery Date

by James Finn Garner

An unknown  team has claimed Yasiel Puig
It could be one in either league
But we can guess, despite paltry news,
That it’s a squad without much to lose.

 



Baseball’s Mysterious Ways

by the Village Elliott

Baseball works in mysterious ways.
Jints swept first nine games with Padres.
Though last three Pods swept,
Jints’ division lead kept
Because Bums lost two in same three days.

 



“Baseball, Baseball” by Jane Morgan



Son of All-Star Clerihews

Clayton Kershaw
Prefers Shaw
Over Ibsen
If he had to put dibs in.

Mark Trumbo
Likes all his shrimp jumbo
And when he orders, it takes
A shovel to serve his Baltimore crab cakes.

Mookie Betts
Likes all kinds of pets
But he has no use
For cockatuse.

Buster Posey
We don’t want to be nosey
But why do the #Giants even appear
At games in odd-numbered years?

 



RIP: A Sixty-Year Lament

by Robert Hilliard

They’re gone.
Pete, Pee-wee and Jackie
entertaining the
Knothole Gang
by crashing into walls,
hustling infield rollers,
and stealing home with a bang.

They’re gone.
Dolph and Cookie and Leo.
No Lip to the umps
No soda or peanuts or crackerjacks.
No cries from the
twenty-five cent bleacher seats
“Wait till next year!”
No more we’ll be chumps.

And Hoyt ain‘t hoit anymore.

They’re gone.
Van Lingle the Mungo and Sandy the K
and Campy, Newk, Preacher
and Mickey, who dropped the third out,
kicking the game away.

Even after Ralph hurled
the Shot Heard ‘Round the World
we were soothed by the guy in the catbird seat.
Red’s voice helped take away the heat.

There was sweet swinging Duke
and Gil’s four in a game.
Why aren’t they
in baseball’s Hall of Fame?

We can still boo the Giants,
but it just ain’t the same.

Waiting year after year
for a moment delirious,
to root for the trolley boys,
at last, in 1955,
in the Woild Serious.

Finally, some fame,
more games to be won,
big houses to tally.
And the money ain’t lame.
But poof, they were gone,
a pox on O’Malley.

A pseudo-team now in LA
copping a cherished name.
An usurper.
A pretender.
A thief.
For shame! For shame!

It’s gone.
They’re gone.
Rest in Peace, Ebbets Field.
Rest in Peace, Brooklyn Dodgers.

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.