A poem celebrating the Chicago Cubs
It is that season of the year
when does flow the beer
in only two stadiums throughout the land.
It is time for the Series
so forget your miseries
and come out and join the band.
There is a strange new presence
within the park fence
that hasn’t been seen for decades.
It is a time of reckoning
for a prize that is beckoning;
to a certain team it more temptingly bades.
For the time has come
for few home runs
sponsored by the illustrious Cubs.
From the streets of the windy city
echoes a chilly ditty
shouting “Now it is our turn Bub!”
“To take the mantle of fame
that we deserve to gain
of the hallmark of batting heights.”
“So lets us then spar
in this annual war
that now rages beneath Wrigley’s harsh lights.”
“So stand aside and open the way
as we walk proudly into the fray
So long have we dreamed of this one.”
“It should fall to all men’s reason
that now is the season
for Chicago’s day in the sun.”
“So let it be uttered
we rose from the gutter
and made our way back to the fore.”
The Cubs have long waited
with a thirst that’s unabated
and them we can no longer ignore.
Its pride can finally swell
they’ve fought their way out of hell
with a ferocity rare.
And somewhere deep neath the ground
a soul’s voice rejoices unbound
Ernie Banks cries “Yea, we’re finally there!!!”
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