By James Finn Garner
With apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Canada did Kluber’s clan
A stately baseball dome lay waste
Where Molson’s had in rivers ran
Through taverns ‘cross the frozen land
. Now left a sour taste
But once before had Cleveland’s Merritt
Begun a game, yet they could bear it
With Miller near to pull his load
The ball did Crisp and Carlos paste
A gonfalon triumph on the road
And two decades of grief erased.
by Hilary Barta
Take me out to the ballgame
(at Mega Predatory Capitalism Corp Park)
Take me out to the crowd
(taking selfies, texting their “friends” and checking email)
Buy me some peanuts and crackerjack
(How much? They’re PEANUTS!)
I don’t care if I never get back
(Actually, I do have to work in the morning)
For it’s root, root, root for the home team
(full of spoiled, right-wing millionaires)
If they don’t win, it’s a shame
(There’s always next year)
So it’s one, two, three strikes you’re out at the old ball game!
(now new and “improved” with replay challenges)
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,