By Stu Shea
You may think you’ve traded me,
For some prospect at Pulaski,
But call my agent–he knows laws.
I have myself a no-trade clause!
I will not go to this new town,
I will not go by air or ground!
You should have asked before you dealt,
Before you tried to swap my pelt,
If I would play for Greeber City,
Published in Management, Players, Songs and Parodies, Stu Shea, Uncategorized | Link to this poem | 1 Comment