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


The Happening

by Laura Weck

I’d been scoffed and laughed at
Nearly all of my life.
Sox fans screamed in my ear:
“TWO THOUSAND AND FIVE!”

“Just relax,” folks would tell me,
“Ya know it’s just a game:
The pleasure is in watching.
The winning is only fame.”

So every year I always watched.
I laughed and boy I cried,
Religiously taking vitamins
Just in case I’d die.

I vicariously watched the Red Sox
And kept close eye on the score.
So happy was I when they took it all
Back in 2004.

Would I ever experience this pure joy,
When on the north side bells would chime?
Could a World Series ever happen here,
Preferably in my lifetime?

Throngs of people now sport Cub gear,
No longer do I feel alone
After the brilliant harvest
Theo had so thoughtfully sown.

I wonder did it really happen
It still feels a bit like a dream
I take pride in telling White Sox fans:
“TWO THOUSAND AND SIXTEEN!”

 



Could Headley Be a Brosius?

by John M.

Could Headley be a Brosius?
Could winter turn to Spring?
Could daffodils be binders
And earn us all a ring?

Could Refsyder be Sojo?
Is Judge another Mick?
Is Aaron just a hiccup
And Tanaka really sick?

Does Cashman like his Lasik?
Does Hal own kinky boots?
As long as we’re in first place,
Are all our questions moot?

 

Originally appeared in the Yankee blog, It is High, It is Far, It is . . . Caught.



Tinker to Evers to Chance

by David E. Matthews

Many’s the times I’ve seen it
.    When imminent gloom turns to glee:
From Tinker to Evers to Chance
.    To end the inning, mark it 6-4-3.

From third to second to first,
.    All around the horn,
They proved themselves the greatest
.    Double play combination ever born!

Tinker goes deep into the hole
.    And cleanly picks the ball,
Throws a dart to second base,
.    The ump calmly makes the call.

At second Evers gets it
.    Just the way he likes,
He pivots, the ball vanishes
.    In a blur as he jumps the spikes.

Chance stretches incredibly
.    As he waits at first,
He gloves the ball, the batter swears,
.    And so the out is pursed.

This is not to say that they never erred,
.    Kicked the ball or muffed the play,
But only that they always tried,
.    Then let the ump have his say.

There is this, then, in contemplation,
.    The base between effect and cause:
That unpredictable expectation
.    Is one of Nature’s laws.

 



The Cards on TV

by Alan P. Rudy

The Cards on TV,
Well, that’s as may be
But it’ll all go roxten
If they bring in Broxton.

The Cards on TV,
Well, that’s as may be.
We got Cecil for lefties,
But he leaves me berefties.

The Cards on TV,
Well, that’s as may be.
Aledmys can really hit,
But Diaz, sadly, fields like . . .

The Cards on TV,
Well, that’s as may be.
Hope springs eternal,
Most outcomes . . . infernal.

The Cards on TV . . .
Dude, stop! They win more when we don’t watch!

 



The Canning of Mr. Met

by James Finn Garner

With apologies (not really needed) to Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in a season’s run
.   By the characters ’round Citi Field
The yardbird gramps will loiter on ramps
.   And tell you to keep your eyes peeled.
The borough of Queens has staged horrible scenes
.   But the horriblest of them yet
Was a dark night in May, with the team put away,
.   We got flipped off by Mr. Met.

Now Mr. Met, let no one forget,
.   Has been around since the Amazin’s began.
The face of the team had a smile that beamed
.   Brighter than any real Gotham man.
So when miserable play, day after day,
.   Leaves the line twixt patience and torture blurred
It should be no surprise that even this guy
.   Is reduced to giving the bird.

The Brewers had bombed ol’ Jacob deGrom
.   And, heckled by some random slob,
Mr. Met let loose with a low-flying goose
.   And now is out of a job.
When you see him there, in the crowd in Times Square,
.   Taking snaps for tips with Iowa teens
With Elmo and Kermit, slow down and permit
.   Him to reflect on what might have been.

 

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Copyright 2007 Bardball.