Shall I Compare Yu to a Summer’s Day? (That Is, Baseball Poetry.)

Alternate title:   In which I get all poetess on you. 

Believe me, I was completely excited about Buster Posey making his Spring Training debut today (especially without dying or smashing up his ankle or anything) but I was also pretty gaga over Matt Cain.  Every Spring Training I remember how much I adore him and how smiley his starts make me.  So, of course, the logical next step was to write him an ode.  But since I’m terribly bad at writing poetry, I decided to adapt one instead.  This is Robert Burn’s lovely A Red, Red Rose.  Some might call it “mutilation”, but I prefer “subtle modernization”.  Feel free to decide for yourself.  If your eyes can wade through the Olde English, that is.  Good luck.

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose, 
That’s newly sprung in March Spring Training: 
O my Luve’s like the melodie of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, 
That’s sweetly play’d in between innings 

As fair art thou, my fantabulous pitcher, 
So deep in luve am I; 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
Till a’ the beer vendor goes dry. 

Till a’ the beer vendor goes dry, my dear, 
And the plastic seats melt wi’ the sun; 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o’ Selig’s life run. 

And fare thee weel, my only Luve! 
And fare thee weel, a while! 
And I will come again, my Luve, 
Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile an hour fastball!

See?  Subtle modernization.  Definitely.

Diamond Girl

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