The Grime of the Ancient Mariner
He loved his team where e’er he lived
When Seattle stole the show
He thought himself a fan supreme
The Yank a constant foe
There was a time, he sadly knows,
His eye was on the sky
A place with bonny birds in rows
Brave Oriole on high
But now he sinks deep in a bog
Of stupor, shame and fear
His supple mind encased in fog
For, now, the Yanks he’ll cheer
Bobbles, wobbles everywhere
Get worse the more you think
Bobble, wobbles everywhere
How low a man can sink!
Charles B. Neff
October 1, 2016
I once pitched a no-hitter to some bad playground batters, but never got into the tobacco chewing slow game like my father did. Hence my snide remarks above… Forgive me.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane
Michael D.
well said