Twas the week before Christmas when jolly St. Nick
Got to thinkin’ ’bout which gift to give to the Fish,
“Now what would they want more than anything else?”
Said he as he quietly sat by himself,
A ballpark? A closer? Control for young Miller?
Perhaps some more people to act as seat fillers?
Then what to his wandering eyes should appear
But a list of the folks who were naughty this year
The Mermaids weren’t on it, nor Tommy nor Rich
Nor guys who could hit, who could catch, field or pitch,
But Samson was naughty! he checked the list twice!
And good gifts are only for kids who act nice.
Then ‘fore his big eyes what a vision he saw,
Of a little red team and their ancient southpaw,
So the idea formed in his merry old brain,
And with it a joy that he could not contain,
“Who cares if they boo-ed me on national tv?
They wear red and white just like jolly old me!”
“On Dasher! On Rudolph! On all the reindeer!
I’ll give the Fish what they deserve for this year!”
So he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like they’d sat on some thistles,
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
“Two more years of Moyer to all, and to all a Good Phight!!!”