Cubs For Christmas

A storm rolls in over the ballpark

But only the catcher has it in view above center field

The queen of the Del Vista Rona steals second

But there's no play at the bag

She leaves oil behind
with each planting of her foot in the clay

The outfield backs up for Jesus on deck

But he bunts down the first base line to sacrifice himself for the queen to third

The ball rolls foul, but the cheers of a visiting crowd breathe heavy to push it back to the fair side of the line

The umpire doesn't notice, as he stares at the coming storm

It's so hot

Black clouds roll in

Will God peer through that tiny patch of blue so quickly closing?

Perhaps not. He must be crying, for it's raining in the bleacher seats.

A tired old commentator swings his microphone from the press box shouting "Holy sacred cow!"

He's clearly lost his mind, but no one can help.
It's illegal to commit Harry Carey

I've seen it all from behind the dugout.

God's tears make muck of the clay

The left fielder builds an ark from Louisville sluggers, complete with dinosaurs bound for Petersburg, Kentucky

There's no room for two by two

When it comes to giant reptiles, there can be only one of each, so they will fade at the seventh inning stretch

Throw a baseball into the stands, if it returns, there is no land-- or we're just playing at Wrigley

Somehow I made it to bat in the bottom of the ninth, but the game ends when a wild pitch allows the queen of the Del Vista Rona to steal home and break the tie

Somewhere, Jimmy Leyland is crying again

It's getting so hot, and he's out of smokes

They say we won, but I don't feel it

It's getting hotter and I never even swung the bat

The mighty Casey may sweat it out, but I won't.