Your week has been rough, Mr. Met,
And I see that you’re very upset.
But nobody blames you
For losing those games, you
Are still our dear round-headed pet.
I know you envision the threat
That a tabloid or local gazette
Will find you at fault
And launch an assault
On your wonderful spherical tête.
That will not happen, I’ll bet.
They’re looking for someone to get,
But try to imagine
If you were Tom Glavine–
Now there is a guy who should sweat.
The Peterson/Randolph duet;
Minaya–plus Phillips, Duquette–
It’s always the leaders
That newspaper readers
Catch in their scapegoating net.
Don’t do a thing you’ll regret.
A mascot has no need to fret.
You’re not the guy
They’re trying to fry,
So please do not fall.
Just back off that wall,
Let Mets fans instead
Use your ball-as-a-head
To cheer for tomorrow
To move past the sorrow
Of this awful collapse
And one day perhaps
The fans will forgive, or forget.