by James Finn Garner
Bazardo, Bazardo, Bazardo, Bazardo,
Batters with hits your field did bombard-o,
Yorman, my man, hits the boulevard-o,
Cut by the Phils with flip disregard-o.
Bazardo, Bazardo, Bazardo, Bazardo,
Though scratched from the Tigers’ and Phillies’ scorecard-o,
I hope you retain your own self-regard-o
And don’t mope and think you’re somehow ill-starred-o,
Or drown your sorrows in amontillado,
Or vanish from sight, incommunicado.
Bazardo, Bazardo, Bazardo, Bazardo,
While no setback leaves a person unscarred-o,
Don’t think yourself with failure much tarred-o,
Or believe that old “washed up” canard-o,
Because at least to the baseball ‘ficionado,
You gave us the chance to holler
“BAZARDO!”
For an earlier poem about Yorman Bazardo, click here.
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Posted 4/30/09