A toast to the Red Sox’s long-awaited world championship
Beneath the famous Gateway Arch
the Cardinal fans now grieve quite parched.
Their thirst is for much more than beer.
They craved a win. That much was clear.
Those wingless Cardinals couldn’t fly
in just four games we watched them die.
Jack Buck was turnin’ in his grave
as with their bats the Red Birds waved
at knuckle balls pitched toward the plate.
At Schilling’s fast balls they swung late.
The N L Central champs are through
while Boston cheers and hoists a brew.
The curse at last has been reversed.
Those Clydesdale horses pull a hearse.
With Red Birds dead, Beantown’s not blue.
Hey Bo Sox fans… “This Bud’s for you!”