Moved from a shack to a barn
Going, going, gone now is the time when the anyman
anytime anywear anywhere antesup anysum
to gamble and gambol amid the gadfly giddygang of gamegoers.
Those times past pastoral past time pastimes were soon to be
overseen, overmined over-rendulated and overlookedafter
by the Pyrate King, Billy Budd Sealeg.
The boyds bum stummbler would commence
to dework the grande olde game from whence
angelic giants met cardinal red twin tigers,blue jays
and red legged orioles.
When white stockinged rangers dodged exposure
to athletic Indian braves.
Or when Yankee pirate mariners would brew royal stews
of marlin and devil ray into a great, greedy, grandious,
nothing is for freeforall that is now dis-played in the fief fields
and staidiums threw-out the kingdome.
Meister acht ober, did notsee the burgers and small fries consumed with large drink, yet ditsy and pro-mote the American and National L’ague anthem
Keep him out of the hall Bud
Lock him out of the grounds
Banished mongst corndogs and cracker jerks
We care not if he ever gets work
And we’ll root, root, root up some faux pas
Hustling the hustler’s fair game
He’s a fine one to transgress gainst us
May he die from shame
Bully Bugsy Sieglig did divvyvide the teleturf spoils
twixt and tween the fief field fellows,
only to see these visionary profits become groangold meanmoney.
Thus corrupting further this game of threes and nines.
Beyond even that of the kitschin’, kvetchin’, Kvorkin’
good doctor whose white dustup the straw berry
is not an honorable Hari Kari.
Nor, did Ricky hinder sin when taking strike after strike,
was allowed to walk ( free base ).
Yet, the game has all along been popularly populated.
The Sultan who was well and truly rogered in his own home.
Gold mantled Mickey and his old white Ford.
Burly bog waders, hurly catfish hunters
and trim salmon.
Red birds perched upon a mcwire,
fiddirich birds and goose goslings.
Black Robins’ son, frank Jacky and more.
There was a Yankee New Yorker
Who wined her and dined her to pork her
No, I can’t, she demurred
Or haven’t you heard
The Boss has done got here before yer
And Dry Branch Ricky did bust the trust and was the renigger
who would roan contrarily hued through
that agrievement keeping the game beyond the pale.
Bad Bart Selling will eventually cap the salt seller, a lucre lid to stem the flow from fief field fellows down to base hip hoppocket thieves. Thence;
The salary cap was the scourge
Overpaid athletes were purged
Some were out and out fired
And others were left in a lurch
In reply to "which way do we go?", the answer was never "straight", but, "progressively forward".