by James Finn Garner
To honor the birth and death of the Bard of Avon on April 23:
His spirit having shed this mortal clay,
Consider Shakespeare doing play-by-play.
With artful language, could he break the code,
Or just “stand like a house by th’ side of th’ road”?
To hear, egads, of someone “going yard”
Might sow farming tableaux within the Bard.
A “dying quail” or “Texas Leaguer”, s’truth,
are chestnuts we might hear the playwright uthe.
The redhead like old Barber might repeat
A phrase like “sitting in the catbird’s seat.”
Shout “Holy cow!” he’d not, nor tipsy sing,
Though quaffing Falstaff would remove the sting.
Arrives the pitch both high, tight and inside,
Quoth he: “With patience do such things betide.”
Having Shakespeare on the broadcast team!
Faith, t’would be the sweetest wordsmith’s dream!
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day”
Rings brighter than, “These two teams came to play.”
To catch, though, baseball’s phantom ballyhoo,
He’d trail stout Ernie: “Let us playeth two!”
Published in Chicago Cubs, Detroit Tigers, History, James Finn Garner, Los Angeles Dodgers, Pure doggerel, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | 7 Comments