Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Stephen Drew
Couldn’t hit his shoe
On the floor,
Then he walks in four.
Adam Wainwright
Could’ve pitched all night,
But maybe one less toss
To David Ross.
John Lester
Was no pitch molestor.
He could’ve saved himself the walk
Up to the chalk.
But Jacoby Ellsbury
Didn’t look like he had a worry
In the world,
Then a flare unfurled.
Joe Mauer
Has no need to feel dour.
He’ll get a trip to the Big Apple for frees
Without having to play the Yankees.
Jason Castro
Is the lone Astro.
He brings Bigfoot to mind
As the sole representative of his kind.
Bartolo Colon
Doesn’t climb the mound alone.
He relies on his teammates, and God,
And Big Pharma supporting his ancient bod.
Freddie Freeman
Must be some kind of he-man.
He’ll play in New York instead of Puig.
Too bad that now, I don’t give a fuig.
Justin Verlander
On the mound don’t meander.
He comes from Old Virginny
And his fastball isn’t finny.
Max Scherzer
While pitching couldn’t be terzer.
Blue eye or brown
He’ll mow your lineup down.
Sanchez (Anibal)
Might be a cannibal
The way he feasts on the gray matter
Of batters.
Doug Fister
Will get a blister
If he don’t lay off of all
Those fireballs.
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