The whole league fears our great armada,
Contenders in each year’s regatta.
But now it’s fear, we got a lotta,
Adrift without Jorge Posada.
We always reach that upper strata
And chase The Biggest Enchilada.
But now we’re hopeless: nothing, nada.
That’s life without Jorge Posada.
Great glory? We shall never win it,
If forced to send out Kelly Stinnett.
There is no chance with Sal Fasano,
If Jorge’s down, like Carl Pavano.
I’d rather use than Mike Piazza
Some cashier from a Kmart plaza,
Our only power would be solar,
If batting sixth, we use Chad Moeller.
The fans won’t come to our arena
To watch us with Jose Molina.
Our chances shall be rank and smelly,
The day we sign Doug Mirabelli.
It brings great pain for me to say,
We’re even thin at Triple A.
And we will watch with great dismay,
Until we see our man… Jorge.