Browse all poems and songs in the 'Pure doggerel' Category


Rockies 8, Yankees 4

by Stephen Jones

Could it get any worse,
This sow’s ear out of a silk purse?
0-9 with men on base?
Talk about a team disgrace.
The Yankee mantra seems to be
Feel free to squander opportunity.

 



All Hail Ichiro

by James Finn Garner

So many long years ago
Ichiro
Began spraying hits
And if it seems like it’s
Going to go on forever
(I mean, it never
Looks like he ages),
Remember the pages
Of record holders
Left to molder
When a young stud
Both lucky and good
Works to set a new mark
At the ball park.
In time a new hero
Will surpass Ichiro,
And the passage of time
Cruel and sublime
Will lose some of its sting
As we salute a new king.

 



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.

 



They Lived Too Soon

by Anonymous

George Washington was President and honored in his day,
He was the father of the land and all things came his way;
He had a basketful of fun, a wagon load of fame—
But he never was a rooter at a base ball game.

Napoleon conquered half the world and had a crown of gold,
And in his time his cup was just as full as it could hold.
It looks from here as though he should have had his share of fun-
But her never strained his vocals when the home team won.

And also Julius Cesar, who had his share of sport,
He won his share of battles, and always held the fort.
He killed lost of people, regardless of the cost—
But he never booed the umpire when the home team lost.

And also Alexander, he turned most every trick,
And then shed tears because there were no more worlds to lick,
He climbed ‘way up the ladder, as high as people get—
But he never pawned his scepter to pay a baseball bet.

Published in the Chicago Record, 1896.

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.