by James Finn Garner
No matter how many times they’re whacked,
Those pesky Twins keep coming back.
Like a dose of clap on your wedding day,
Those lousy Twins won’t stay away.
Like a yappy dog or a Ringling clown,
Those stinking Twins won’t lay down.
In another division, I’d admire their pluck,
But as a Tiger and Sox fan, it looks like I’m stuck
Watching them ruthlessly turning their tricks
Like a mad masked killer in a teen slasher flick.
Like a zombie army or Ted Williams’ head,
Those #$%@!! Twins just won’t stay dead.
Published in Chicago White Sox, Detroit Tigers, James Finn Garner, Minnesota Twins, Pure doggerel | Link to this poem | No Comments