The House That Ruth Ate

by Hilary Barta

To the bleachers a finger was pointed
With a homer the Babe was anointed
.    The fat patron saint
.    of a lack of restraint
His appetite came double-jointed.


Published in Ballparks, Food, History, Limerick, New York Yankees, Players | Link to this poem | 15 Comments

The House That Ruth Ate: 15 Comments

  1. Norm Knott wrote,

    Did Sultan of Swat, off a bender,
    in bleachers eye his favorite vender?
    The one that did slog
    the hair of the dog
    and signal him for headache mender?

  2. Hilary Barta wrote,

    Perhaps something else he had spotted
    Soft pretzels, all salty and knotted?
    Or dogs on steamed buns
    he could eat in the tons?
    And at them a homer he swatted?

  3. Norm Knott wrote,

    Perhaps someone who owed him money
    or some unsuspecting blonde honey
    he pointed right at
    and then swung his bat
    and thought tale concocted was funny?

  4. Hilary Barta wrote,

    The legend, they say, is what’s printed
    So fiction from history’s minted
    Though nobody wrote,
    or I’ve not seen the quote,
    “The Babe, ’round the bases, had sprinted.”

  5. Hilary Barta wrote,

    Rounding second the Babe started wheezing
    And at third his whole body was seizing
    He at last crossed the plate
    “Was it something you ate?”
    was the crack from the catcher, just teasing

  6. Hilary Barta wrote,

    ‘When he fell on the plate’ woulda been funnier.

  7. Norm Knott wrote,

    The Babe raised his leg and then farted
    and from box seats several fans darted
    The stink from Babe’s moon
    caused backstop to swoon
    and from field the catcher was carted

  8. Hilary Barta wrote,

    That did it!

  9. Hilary Barta wrote,

    But wait, there’s more where that came from:

    In ballparks his presence was felt
    On baseballs his bat left a welt
    Then, tempted by franks,
    he emptied whole tanks,
    and vast clouds of gasses he dealt

  10. Norm Knott wrote,

    Some just won’t let sleeping babes lie
    refusing to kiss them good-bye
    Is it OCD
    that won’t leave him free
    to let this link slink off and die?

  11. Hilary Barta wrote,

    Growing bored? We have shunned the redundant
    And the lore on our subject’s abundant
    Babe strides like a god
    across Time’s verdant sod
    So more of the slugger rotundant!

  12. Norm Knott wrote,

    Babe’s shoes are too big to be filled
    His rep and his myth can’t be killed
    He’s known ‘cross the world
    His feats non pareil
    On parchments his exploits are quilled

  13. Hilary Barta wrote,

    A giant that walked among men
    (Or a Yank, as I guess he was then)
    Above others he loomed
    (’cause of all he consumed)
    The Babe was the greatest, amen!

  14. Norm Knott wrote,

    Despite Bonds, McGwire and Maris
    His sweet number 60 is fairest
    So perfect, so round,
    so story book bound
    A number that purists all cherish

  15. Hilary Barta wrote,

    I love it! I have to step away, but before i do…

    The Babe didn’t take many pitches
    He aimed for the fences and riches
    As the ‘Sultan of Swat’
    he’d hit homers and trot, his gait ‘round the bases delicious

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