The Venezuelan League

by Hilary Barta, assisted by Sid Yiddish

In the winter they swarm to Caracas
Where the fans, true to form, shake maracas
.      Down there all the players
.      Don’t wear many layers
As the sun keeps them warm in the tuchas.


Published in Ballparks, Fans, Limerick, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | 18 Comments

The Venezuelan League: 18 Comments

  1. George Bowering wrote,

    There was a first baseman named Easter
    Who owned a considerable keester
    A homer would flex ass
    Till the fans south of Texas
    Would holler óle, gringo meester!

    [I know, it’s awful]

  2. Hilary Barta wrote,

    In baseball the fan often finds
    Behavior of manly-man kinds
    To favor a guy
    For a play or good try
    The players will pat their behind.

  3. Anonymous wrote,

    They say that the size of his doopa
    is what made C. Fielder so soopah
    His great big caboose
    gave Cecil a boost
    He even could outswing Gene Krupa

  4. Hilary Barta wrote,

    I laughed so hard I had to sit down.

  5. Hilary Barta wrote,

    When he plopped at the plate in his stance
    Fans dropped what they ate for a glance
    His huge derriere
    Caused viewers to stare
    When the bottom popped out from his pants.

  6. Hilary Barta wrote,

    To the plate he would swagger and strut
    With his heel he would dig out a rut
    As his elbows extend
    At the waist he would bend
    And his over-sized buttocks would jut.

  7. Hilary Barta wrote,

    The teams who oppose him all fear
    Prince Fielder’s imposing big rear
    When he goes in a slide
    He’ll expose his back-side,
    And it seems like it grows coming near.

  8. norm knott wrote,

    In batter’s box, he can’t get back so much
    despite the fact that he does practice such
    food intake control
    It’s just, bless my soul,
    he’s got a big gluteus maximus

  9. Hilary Barta wrote,

    And…

    When Fielder a fastball attacks
    He wields not a bat but an axe
    With his go-for-broke chops
    Hitting homers he’s tops
    And his seat is the gluteus max.

  10. norm knott wrote,

    No question, the punk was quite drunk
    He said “You got junk in your trunk!”
    So tired of this jazz
    He grabbed the kid’s ‘nads
    That punk lost a chunk from his spunk

  11. norm knott wrote,

    No question, the punk was quite drunk
    He said “You got junk in your trunk!”
    So tired of this jazz
    He grabbed the kid’s ‘nads
    That punk lost a chunk of his spunk

  12. Hilary Barta wrote,

    It seems in our bootie-themed verse
    We’ve taken a route for the worse
    For Cecil to fit
    His seat for a sit
    To a chair he must scoot in reverse.

  13. Hilary Barta wrote,

    Our rhyming is lacking in class
    The critics dismiss it en masse
    “A writer who spends
    Their time on such ends
    Has made of themselves quite an ass.”

  14. Hilary Barta wrote,

    Prince Fielder supplies lots of runs
    And his keister’s surmised to be tons
    With this summer sensation
    Is there some correlation
    ‘Tween his yield and the size of his buns?

  15. Hilary Barta wrote,

    Please forgive me, C Fielder fans. I mixed up our subject Cecil with his son Prince, the next generation of the Fielder family.

  16. norm knott wrote,

    You ass!

  17. Hilary Barta wrote,

    Yes. And boy, is my as–I mean, face red!

  18. George Bowering wrote,

    While taking my famed batting stance
    For the fastball of short Bobby Schantz
    I’d close both my eyes
    And ignore his odd size
    And hope not to soil my pants.

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