Imploring the Fates to Intercede on Behalf of the Baseball Fans of the North Side of Chicago

By Stuart Shea

Right by the lake,
The home of mistakes,
Wrigley Field, where fans make a din.

100 years old,
Stories untold,
Waiting for a World Series win.

Tickle this town!
Just one crown
Would make the old and young ones grin.

Will it be so?
Will we ever know
The joy of a winner
That feels just like sin?


Published in Ballparks, Chicago Cubs, Chicago Cubs, Fans, Former Teams, History, Pure doggerel, Stu Shea, The Game Itself, Youth | Link to this poem | No Comments

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