Baseball is the pastime of the home and of the Braves
Of Ruthian proportions and Maglie’s closer shaves
The outings of the innings are of three and then by nine
Except for those with extra ones, the beautiful design
A sport they place without a clock on fields ever green
With seventh-inning stretches in its parks, oh so serene
And little kids they run around, their hearts before their feet
They tease the ever-jealous fan whose glove lies by the seat
Good or evil, know not which, to sacrifice or steal
To argue with the umpire, the imminent appeal
We idolize our heroes who epitomize our dreams
Oh baseball is the glove where hearts break well before the seams