by Patrick McCaughey
With apologies to Cole Porter:
You’re a flop!
You’re U.S. Steel!
You’re a flop!
You’re an Arby’s meal!
You’re the bunch of bums
That keep my Tums stock low.
You’re Zsa Zsa’s hubbys!
You’re those Poor Cubbies! You’re Broglio!
You’re the mistakes
Of the “Ishtar” writer!
You’re the brakes
On James Dean’s Porsche Spyder!
You’re a worthless nine,
You’re Jewish wine, you suck!
You’re that black cat!
Sosa’s corked bat! You’re Banks’ luck!
You’re a flop!
The futile prayers I prayed!
You’re a flop!
The ‘84 parade!
You’re a trip to hell
To where Piniella’s coaching next!
You’re Elia’s hate!
You’re Zimmer’s pate! You’re really hexed!
You play as poor
As warped LPs do!
Yes even more
Than Ticketmaster fees, too.
You’re the cause
Of much applause for games you drop!
In St. Louis and New York, well, you’re the top!
You’re a flop!
Each fall I cry a river!
You’re a flop!
You’re Harry Caray’s liver!
You’re the thing
That hits in spring like Tunney’s punch!
You’re watered gin,
A Cardinal win, a Pete Rose hunch!
You’re as unsure
As Yogi Berra’s diction!
As a tie score
When Carlos Marmol’s pitchin’!
My heart can only take so many flubs!
It’s no disease that’s gonna kill me-
It’s you Cubs!