Fenway

Wasn't until I finished and went to post this poem that I found out there really is a tea called the Louisville Bats.

Fenway

Pealings of the crowd at a Red Sox game
  Lift my eyes up to where angels beam,
While in jeering at Boston’s own home team
  Visiting Yankee fans yell things plain mean

Yet what’s that above there, the left field lights?
  It’s the strangest of birds ever I’ve seen flight,
None I know fly like that, ‘specially out in the night,
  I’m not watchin’ the game, what a curious sight!

So I look through my binoculars
  (which I brought to read the scores)
And there’s just one, peculiar,
  Woulda’ thought there’d a been a few more,

Colored Café’ au lait? What the hell bird is that?
  He’s got leathery wings! He’s a hovering thing!,
It’s the Greater New England Large Common Brown Bat!
  (which despite it’s name are just not seen that often!)

Seems he’s come to catch the Fens’ Spring Moths,
  Which the blazing lights tonight have drawn,
Where they teem in a froth, high as home run hit balls,
  Which the bat picks at ease with his claws,

By a foot to his mouth, our winged outfielder
  Brings each seasons ripe moth to his mouth,
Just like we fans down here, with our ball caps and beer
Do while snackin’ on ol’ Cracker Jack!

 You say these tickets cost money, what am I lookin’ at?
  I keep watching him over the game,
Hey the other fans here also paid to see bats,
  Am I not really like them, the same?