By Kevin Hennessy

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When the Twins face the Yankees,
Mere mortals we don’t just see:
Gods as great as those of Greeks
Stand upon tall mountain peaks.

A-Rod, king of playoff clutch,
Jeter, dare we stray too much?
Mark T., we should four-ball pass,
Jorge? He isn’t out of gas.

Then the bullpen, dare we see?
Lights out when we think of thee!
Mariano, four outs, one two three!
(Four, with a single scattered in betwee’)

Gardenhire says, “We don’t play with our wallets,”
But 0-10 don’t sit well on our palates.
Sobbing into our homer hankies,
We bow to and worship the dreaded Yankees.

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Posted 10/15/2009

Published in Pure doggerel, Minnesota Twins, History, Players, New York Yankees | Link to this poem |