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Array
(
[sid] => 42012
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Little Swinger
[time] => 2004-04-06 12:45:36
[hometext] => Don't crow til it's go
[bodytext] => He looked absolutely great as he walked up to the plate Swinging bats around his head just like a pro, You'd of thought he was a man, with his little swaying can, All the mothers in the stand thought it was so. For his size, he had a sneer which looked something like a leer, All the baby girls about gave him some sighs, And the more that they would pout, and the more that they would shout Added sparkle to the twinkle of his eyes. There goes one and it's a strike, Announcer called it on the mike, A sound so low you hardly heard came from the crowd, There goes two, it was a ball, The temperature began to fall, Announcer called it on the mike but not too loud. Wow-o-wee was number three..a strike it was as one could see, What you heard the crowd exclaim was more a growl, And he swung at number four..he struck out..the crowd was sore And the noise that you did hear was one big howl. The moral of the tale, is so old that it is stale, You may look real well when walking up to bat, But unless you make a hit, there's no pity, not a bit, Be prepared is what I say..and that is that. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 55 [informant] => norm [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => dedicatedpoems )
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