The Detroit Tigers
(anon., 1967)
Tigers, Tigers, burning bright,
in the ballparks of the night,
your pitching's good, your field adroit,
so why no pennants for Detroit?
You blaze around the big league parks
with bats that fairly give off sparks.
But when they total up the score,
you've lost again to Baltimore.
You start out brave with each new year,
with stalwart hearts, you know no fear.
Then from on high, while sitting pretty,
you blow four games at Kansas City.
The Cleveland Indians go to work,
they beat you good, so does New York.
When Boston adds a mortal blow,
all you can cry's "look out below!".
Before the season's finally done,
you've been outplayed by Washington.
Amid the heated pennant race,
you fight to cling to seventh place.
Tigers, Tigers, burning bright,
in the ballparks of the night,
some day the fans will get their fill,
and ship the team to Louisville.
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