Thou pinstripes breed contempt,
Thou foster-child of Beelzebub and Succubus:
Elysian history attests to power,
But a false tale made sweet by time
For the legend is haunted by thy payroll.
Deification via the dollar?
What god are ye? What grace have ye?
Mere mortals are thou, by George.
Though winning is the goal, you grieve
Your farm, and must pluck the fruit of smaller trees.
North, the patriots claim long-suffering sacrifice
To what green altar? What monster?
Paling to the house that Ruth hath built.
Bogged in thou fens, lusting for respect,
It hath returned, on the wings of legal tender.
Care not the Southies, the Bluebloods,
Who be desolate at their cores. Wicked,
Until glory is restoreth for decades-long pain.
Reward they that spend? That bid the most?
Thou shalt return to woe, lest you robbeth a Twin.
Thou foster-child of Beelzebub and Succubus:
Elysian history attests to power,
But a false tale made sweet by time
For the legend is haunted by thy payroll.
Deification via the dollar?
What god are ye? What grace have ye?
Mere mortals are thou, by George.
Though winning is the goal, you grieve
Your farm, and must pluck the fruit of smaller trees.
North, the patriots claim long-suffering sacrifice
To what green altar? What monster?
Paling to the house that Ruth hath built.
Bogged in thou fens, lusting for respect,
It hath returned, on the wings of legal tender.
Care not the Southies, the Bluebloods,
Who be desolate at their cores. Wicked,
Until glory is restoreth for decades-long pain.
Reward they that spend? That bid the most?
Thou shalt return to woe, lest you robbeth a Twin.
