By the Darn-Poor Rhymer
Neil’s Note: Those of us east of the pond get lip here from those who think we’re against American culture. To cure y’all of the notion, the Darn-Poor Rhymer has written a pome on the subject dearest to Yankee hearts at this time of year: baseball.
A major baseball team did hire
A player young and green:
But when at center field he stood,
He was so speedy, that he could
Catch anything, and clean!
His name was Simpson, and he had
A father English born;
Who in the USA did seek
A woman, and he found a Greek
American. One dawn,
They conjugated, then declined;
They both enjoyed the fun!
And nine months later, there emerged
Along with other matter splurged,
Jay Simpson, new young one.
He grew in body and in mind,
He grew in strength and pace.
He was intelligent and tall,
And fast; but he thought, most of all,
“It’s baseball that’s my place.”
And so, at age eighteen, he was
Contracted to the Eries,
A Canuck team out in the sticks,
Who thought they might be in the mix,
But never the World Series.
As hitter, Jay was accurate,
But didn’t have much clout.
But he met cricket playing friends,
Who gave him help to make amends
By hitting inside out.
The season was beyond belief!
Alert at every play,
Young Jay was always on his game,
“No Errors Jay” became his name;
His team went all the way!
The California Superstars
Were next up for the Eries.
Four games of seven must be won,
And they’d be hard games, every one;
The Superstars weren’t fairies.
It came down to the final game,
And then to the ninth inning;
The scoreless game had been no fun,
But if the Eries scored a run,
They would be title winning!
Strike one, strike two, strike three, and gone!
The lefty pitcher smiled.
Then two on base, and one more out,
Who would come in for the final clout?
Jay Simpson, meek and mild.
The first pitch, he ignored. But it
Was just inside the zone.
The second, he did swing at. But
The pundits said, “Wrong choice! Tut tut!”
Strike two; he felt alone.
The third pitch came in low and fast,
And Jay knew how and why
To hit the off-drive right between
The first and second basemen mean,
To gain his RBI.
But that’s not all. For then a wasp
Stung the right fielder’s stoma,
The center fielder pulled up lame,
And all the people at the game
Said: “That’s an infield homer!”
As young Jay ran from base to base,
He cried with joy, “Home, Eries!”
And “Homer” Simpson he became,
And we still call him by that name,
For he won the World Series.