Changes is difficult, all in all,
Resistance holds us entirely in thrall
At times, especially when fast balls
Go sailing out and drop over the walls
When the visitors hit them. They fly so far away
It makes New York Mets fans want to say
How come our boys can't make any hay
With that long ball, day after day after day?
I'm trying to change my life, improve my chances
To lose that beer belly and get some glances
From the ultimate sources of romances--
The cutie pies who go into trances
When the Citifield orange and blue major leaguer
Smacks that potato with a swing that's eager
But what I get is an offense that's meager
To the point where there's no rhyme to get the fourth line home.
So Gary, Ronnie and Keith, I'm going my own way--
I'll watch Hope and Crosby on the Road to Mandalay
And not worship heroes with bats and gloves of clay
Who drop pop-ups and strike out, league leaders only at grounding into double plays.
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