Reviving the Art of Baseball Doggerel
Rays are in the basement
Ain’t got the tin to spend
Braves are in a new tent
Paid for by the government
Oakland’s in the same boat
Should they stay? Should they go?
Big pay day’s in San Jose
But for now they’re gonna stay in East Bay
Look out kid
Ya done bin outbid
Owners cry the poor mouth, doin’ it again
Wanna build skyboxes to party with their rich friends
Some day you gotta stop but you don’t know when
Season ticket costs eleven grand, you only got ten . . .
It ain’t no use to pitch and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ it ain’t no use to bitch and holler, “Why, Babe?”
You just don’t throw ’em now
When your skipper crows, “Put that man on base,”
No more of your efforts will go to waste
The ump will just signal that batter on
Don’t throw four, it’s all right
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
. Â Â 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.
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)