It's Only May, But Hey... (A poem)

IT'S ONLY MAY, BUT HEY...

We have no speed; our pitchers stink.
Opposing lineups run amok.
How far can Damon’s numbers shrink?
It's only May, but hey...
... We suck.

A-Rod is hurt; Posada’s worse.
Phil Hughes is gone, the outlook bleak.
Our clubhouse needs a fulltime nurse.
It's only May, but hey...
... We reek.

Where’s Tino? Bernie? Old Mike Stanton?
And David Cone, we couldn’t fail.
Right now, Igawa’s stuck in Scranton,
And Jimmy Leyritz...
... Facing jail.

Our best defender is Cabrera.
Abreu’s lame; Giambi’s slow.
Molina? He’s no Yogi Berra.
I know it’s May, but hey...
... We blow.