Oh, batter, batter at the plate,
please bring me home.
One hit that clears the neighbor’s gate,
knocks down their gnome.
We’ll run each base with happy feet,
high-five our teammates when we meet.
Imagine trophies made of chrome,
please bring me home.
Good eye for making pitcher wait,
he’s drooling foam.
Don’t swing until he throws one straight,
like parts you comb.
I want to hear that knowing crack,
use all your weight to make it smack.
Allow that ball to fly to Rome,
please bring me home.