The old baseball spot is all but forgot
Overgrown in sunflower bloom
Thanks to the players who spat a lot
On the field they used to groom
Down in the count…ahead or behind
One pitcher, one batter
Both seeking answers for what’s on their mind
Heaven forbid if the Ump should go blind
Or the ball unravels and travels amiss
Cause the kiss of termites bore through the tools
That hanker to settle the matter with swat
In one ship and two Ruthless bands of fools
Ready the boys for October then
The hitters, the swingers - those gentlemen
The uniformed diamond dandy few
Who catch and throw and stare into the blue getting paid to play for you!