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
