A Crooked And Dumb Umpire. Poem by Michael Gale

Steee-rike three the ump shouts! ,
I turn to him and stare in disbeliefe...
Who is this blinded thief,

As i ask myself silently in thought? ...
What minuses and pluses to the game has this stranger brought?

As i leave the home plate area after my time at bat...
I spit on the umpires shoes where he squats down at.

Now it is out to the pitchers mound that i trot...
I'm soon to show these other teamed batters what hot stuff, that i've got.

This game we true did lose...
All because of the blind umpirery blues.

So next time that you as a reader have a game to play...
Make sure the ump is not on the take that day.