Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Rupert Murdoch, Yes, the Poem

CIA chief bangs his ghost,
Arod, blistered in the Post.
Jersey digging out from Sandy.
Doctors checking eyes of Grandy.

Jeter’s ankle in the cast. 
Yankee outlook, picked for last.
Bullpen, starters, all a mess.
Rupert Murdoch, owning YES?

Swisher gone, Cashman cracking, Soon he'll work at cellphone hacking.
Cut the payroll, that’s our goal.
Murdoch calls, let's sell our soul.


Mayans say the end is near.
Mariano's final year.
What's the endgame? Take a guess.
Rupert Murdoch, owning YES.

No comments: