Here it is, my tale of woe,
No win, no place, not even show;
My hopes last year soon turned to pain,
Once more we heard that old refrain –

About “next year,” you know the words,

Forget last year, it was one for the birds;
Unless, of course, for the Royals you root,
They left the Mets in complete disrepute.

Yes once again, the Sox finished last,
Despite Big Papi’s five hundredth blast;
We had expected a much higher placement,
But no such luck, stuck again in the basement.

We weren’t very happy about those trades,
The team’s new players got failing grades;
Ramirez in left was not acceptable;
Will he make it at first?  Consider me skeptical.

They made some changes, last year was odd,
Down in the home of the bean and the cod;
Dombrowski came in, Ben C. went out,
Lucchino followed, a front office rout!

Last fall we turned with hope to the Pats,
Brady’s soft footballs, his incredible stats;
But the Patriots’ season did not end well,
Giselle, alas, has no reason to kvell.*

Now it’s March, we can shed our winter fatigue,
This month marks the start of the grapefruit league;
John Farrell will manage, his health restored,
And Tory Lovullo will still be aboard.

Don Orsillo no longer speaks for the team,
He’s off to the Padres, with the fans’ esteem;
But we’ll still tune in to the old Remdawg,
Last season was not his epilogue.

And hope, as always, has taken over,
This year, of course, we’ll be in clover;
As the kids mature, Bradley, Jr. and Betts,
And Ortiz is still as good as it gets.

This year, says Werner, we’re “motivated,”
If I were Tom I’d be “aggravated;”
Look at Sandoval, he’s downright bloated
He’d better lose weight or he’ll be demoted.

They made some trades, the new starter is Price,
Thirty million he’ll get, that should suffice;
And they picked up Kimbrel, who arrives with raves,
For leading the National League in saves.

Behind the plate they will pitch to Vazquez,
He’s healthy this year, that’s what everyone says;
But if he’s not, Blake Swihart will catch,
While giving the sign, he’s been known to scratch.

Soon the grass will be green, the stands will be full,
As men, women, and kids for the Bosox will pull;
The new season will start, we’ll all hear the call,
Time once again for our team to “Play ball.”

For our national pastime, again we give thanks,
For even the team we can’t stand called the “Yanks”;
“Bring ‘em on,” we will say, “you help keep us young,”
The snows have now passed, and a new spring has sprung.


*Yiddish for being extraordinarily proud.