Consider the plight of the poor folks in Salem,
If it isn’t one thing, another will nail ‘em;
Particular? No, they’re not that hard to please,
It just that for baseball, they’re stuck with the Cheese.
We’d figured out drafting, the concept was clear.
With contracts, we’d learned to avoid multi-years,
A great crop of rookies had banished our fears.
But then, in the mail came that Wolverine offer
Of Morrison, Logan, first nail in our coffer,
We took it, not knowing our left fielder’s knee
Would keep his BA well below oh point three
Spring training disasters, like Bailey’s right thumb,
Turned out to be portents of troubles to come,
Like Salvador Perez, whose knee took some knocks,
Or Daniel Bard trying to start for the Sox.
Our mid-season pickup of Pettitte looked smart,
But Kotchman’s line drive broke our Cottage St. heart.
When Dillon Gee’s arm (and his season) went numb,
It was over; we’re finished; our Cheese doom had come.
But look! There are bright spots! Altuve is great,
Josh Johnson’s recovered, Perez worth the wait,
With young Jacob Turner, Frieri, and Reed,
Next year the Cheese staff will most likely succeed!
We’ll rise from last place, abandon the cellar.
My wife often wonders about us; I’ll tell her
She’ll see a Cheese lineup that’s potent and strong,
She may have some doubts; may think that I’m wrong,
But surely next year will be better than this’n,
The rest of the league, they will sit up and listen
When Cottage Street ownership writes their next poem,
‘Twill be more triumphant than this whiny tome.