'Twas the night before baseball
When all through the rockpile,
Not a batter was hitting, not even a Helton.
The baseballs were dried by the dugout with care
In the hopes that the big Papi would err.
The fans were nestled all snug in the their beds,
While visions of series wins danced in their heads.
Scott in his jersey and me in My Hockey Skates (what can I say)
Had just settled down for a cold one and a chat and a game we should play.
From my brain arose such a clatter:
Let's stir up the teams and bring out the Rockies chatter.
On Danny, On Danny my boss cheered lustily,
Away to the keyboard I flew with a flash.
I can talk baseball and Red Sox trash.
And so with gusto and emotion and clap
There arose such a spatter of baseball snap.
Twas not long before Nashua and Burlington rose to the challenge
Questions of character and characters a plenty.
Spikes we shall have, in varying colors chimed the team from Nashua
The matters of oysters and lobster rolls stuffed in cake holes was hurled in defiance.
"Man up" and are we playing little league or series ball was tossed with a snarl.
Oh somewhere in the favored land the sun is shining bright
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And somewhere men are laughing and little children shout;
But there is no joy on Blake Street -- the Mighty Rocks have struck out.
Once upon a Friday dreary, I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
Arose two children with their cans of Red,
'twas time to pay the piper they said.
And so, as my younger daughter has exclaimed,
"Daddy, we love the Red..."
With apologies to, Edgar Allen Poe, Ernest Thayer, and Clement Clark Moore