When baseball's best do battle in the field
And at the plate, until it should be clear
Who is the best, to whom all else must yield.
As every year, we watched teams' fates revealed
We cheered defensive plays, and runs so fleet
Applauded hits; hissed errors, calls appealed
As each team gave their all, to best compete.
Full twenty-nine have tasted of defeat
While one alone reigns, champions without peer
Their fans now savor victory so sweet
While all the rest of us must shed our tears.
--So say farewell, this season's at an end
--Till April, when we meet, and hope, again.