Browse all poems and songs in the 'Songs and Parodies' Category


The Blanking Tygers

by James Finn Garner

Tygers, Tygers, slinking low,
Humbled by the sailing O’s,
What makeup will yours be now
If Max and V-Mart take their bows?

We scarce knew you through this year
with superstars bought so dear.
With Triple Crowns and Cy Youngs
The faithful still bit their tongues.

What staff ace learns yet in May
He must recast how to play?
Which outfielder is there that
Can deftly wield both glove ‘n bat?

What cast of manager says,
“Pinch hit? Call Hernan Perez!”
And what manner of bullpen
Features Joba Chamberlain????

Tygers, Tygers, slinking low,
All these questions we would know,
Plus the reason for the fact
Ausmus has a long contract.

 



“Phillies Fever”

From 1976, sung by Dave Cash, Larry Bowa, Greg Luzinski, Mike Schmidt and Garry Maddox.



This is Just to Say, from the White Sox

by James Finn Garner

With apologies to William Carlos Williams

We have traded
Adam Dunn
who was clogging
the payroll

to the A’s
in a pennant race
for a bag
of rocks

Forgive us
he was ridiculous
so whiffable
and so old

 



Tony Gwynn

by The Village Elliott

With apologies to Rudyard Kipling and his “Gunga Din”

You may talk of those who bat
With reflexes like a cat,
Like Tony Gwynn, whose prowess was high art.
Played right field for childhood team,
Padre skipper’s Gold Glove dream,
A southpaw five-tool player, ‘ead and ‘eart.
Destined for the ‘All of Fame,
San Diego son became
Legend playing locally for twenty years.
Though big money thrown his way,
Stayed for “’Ometown Discount” pay,
Around the league fans paid him with more cheers.

Fans cheered, “Gwynn! Gwynn! Stalwart star!
Your sweet swing strikes spheroid far.
Though twice Series ring eluded,
When your career concluded,
Your .394 best season since World War.”

Padre uniform he wore,
Was nothing much before
And rather less ag’in when he retired.
But his two-toned Padre ‘at
An’ eight-time entitled bat
Was all the field equipment he required.
When Dog Days of Summer’s ‘eat
Has grim gamers in retreat,
Avoid high ‘eat that makes one’s average skid,
‘Eat didn’t wither, make Gwynn faint,
Hit another where they ain’t,
And it dropped in like three thousand others did.

Fans called, “Gwynn! Gwynn! Tony Gwynn!
Eighth bat title you did win
Puts you in the Pantheon
For most NL titles won,
Only you and ‘Onus Wagner, Tony Gwynn.”

‘Allowed ‘all in Cooperstown
Honors players of renown,
With special nod for “Inner-Circle Member,”
Those elected first time out,
For the writers have no doubt
They’re Immortals whose careers fans need remember.
One Immortal who slid in
Was the Padres’ Tony Gwynn,
Second San Diego son to get so tapped.
Though first two less bat crowns wrest,
William’s lifetime average best
Though Gwynn’s.338 best since Ted first uncapped.

Fans cried, ”Goodbye, Tony Gwynn!
End in town where you begin.
Now you play on Field of Dreams
Where Immortals field the teams.
You belong on their first ballot, Tony Gwynn.”

The Village Elliott lives in Stinson Beach, California. His bio is a poem in itself–watch this space for further details.



Tales from Cardinal Town

By Alan P. Rudy

Matt Adams, Matt Adams, how do you mash?
“I crush and I bash and I slash, so mash!”
Matt Adams, Matt Adams, you’re so gritty.
“I am that,” says the man nicknamed Big City

To minors, to minors to call up a thrower
Cards again, Cards again, find a flamethrower
To AAA, to AA, to call up an 8 or a 9.
Cards again, Cards again, not nearly so fine.

AL East

NL East

Extra Innings

AL Central

NL Central

Poems by Type

AL West

NL West

Heavy Hitters

Copyright 2007 Bardball.