By Stuart Shea
Real Brewers don’t go out of business so fast.
Real White Sox don’t unravel in hours.
And actual Angels don’t fall from the stars
And land on their butts.
And real Cubs don’t slink out with their tails between their legs
Like a pack of whipped mutts.
Published in Chicago Cubs, Chicago Cubs, Chicago White Sox, Chicago White Sox, Los Angeles Angels, Milwaukee Brewers, Pure doggerel, Stu Shea | Link to this poem | No Comments