(Too good for only the comments section:)
Hoss’ Prison Blues
(with apologies to Johnny Cash)
I hear that D train comin'
It's rolling round the bend
And I ain't seen a ballgame, since I don't know when.
I'm stuck in Hoss’ prison, with guys named 13 Bit
And unlike Steve McQueen, they took my baseball mitt.
I went to see the Yankees and hang out with the guys
And drink a bunch of liquor, pay twenty bucks for fries...
Then someone done paid forty, for some Cracker Jacks…
By the time the riot ended, there’s numbers on our backs.
I know there's rich folks eating, in boxes in the sky,
And watching big screen TV’s, and drinking their Mai Tais.
While we sat in the cheap seats, and we could barely see...
But they don’t care ‘bout the ballgame
And that's what tortures me.
Well if they freed me from this prison
no more live games for me.
No selling blood for tickets. Won’t stand in line to pee
No more hard earned money, to a guy named Lon
When I get out of Hoss’ Prison ... I will be high, far and…gone.
Doug K.
Posts
6 comments:
Yeah. Again.
Well I woke up Sunday morning with no way to look at the boxscore that didn't hurt
Big Maple spoiled breakfast and Cash keeps treating Frazier just like dirt
I looked for that day's starter and saw two innings of Lasagna, then dessert
of Chad Green and Ottavino and whatever other arms Boonie has available today
I cursed the tube the night before, wondering why Ben Heller was left in
and I'm just as glum today seeing Tauchman flailing against Corbin
while Gary's looking lost and Clint's on the road north to Scranton
and it took me back to something that Cash lost somewhere along the way
Watching a Sunday afternoon ballgame, hoping Lord the bullpen holds
Cause there's something about this ballgame, makes me think the Yanks will fold
And there's nothing short of dying half as enraging as the sound
as Boonie's post-loss presser, explaining why Frazier got sent down
Great, Publius! And such great work by Doug!
We can work the whole Johnny Cash songbook in here!
Publius,
I laughed. I cried.
Doug K.
Okay, lie still while we tattoo you. Fighting is futile.
Now I taught the weeping willow how to cry,
And I showed the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky.
And the tears that I cried for them Yankees are gonna flood you East River.
Then I'm gonna sit right here until I die....
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