So the cat hears it all the time that you humans seem to chime. Why the heck to do associated the humpty hump with baseball? Not that it isn't liked some at my hall, but still. Are you humans ill?
You're so far out in left field,
Damn, I need a shield.
So I don't start using them too,
Here at my zoo.
Stuck at third base?
Why the said look on your face?
Just steal home,
Of course if you aren't in Rome,
You may get called out.
Come now don't pout.
Or would that be balk?
Such confusing talk.
Stuck on first,
Would surely screw up your thirst.
We won't dwell on that line a lot.
A pinch hitter,
Could make one bitter,
And lead to divorce.
Even if you are full of remorse.
The seventh inning stretch.
What you stop to play fetch?
Games can be three hours or so,
My you had stamina at your show.
Unless of course there is a foul ball,
Then things may halt at your hall.
Or the ball bounces over the wall,
Then second base is where you'll stall.
Patting a butt for encouragement may work,
Some may consider that a perk.
Plus you are all geared up,
With a helmet to prevent any hiccup.
And just slide in,
So you get the win.
My baseball is a dirty game.
This post is far from tame.
Picked off at second base,
Halts your embrace.
Three strikes and you're out,
What were the first two about?
And the cat will leave you with that, as the baseball terms fly at his mat. I guess I can see why you humans use it on the fly. A real hole in one, damn, that's another one. Slipped that past the goalie I guess. Damn, what a mess. The cat is off now to pass gas that will calm everything down thanks to my little rhyming ass.
Experience spring, have a fling.