Fresh baked challah with
chopped liver,
Grandma's almost through.
When the radio announces:
Cubbies seven. Cardinals two!
Grandma throws her apron in the corner in a tiff!
"They should have pulled the pitcher
in the bottom of the fifth!
Such a Mr. Big Shot couldn't throw
a matzah ball."
Oy! Grandma loves her baseball
most of all.
Grandma loves her baseball most
of all.
Dusk is fallen.
Light the candles.
Time to bless the wine.
Wide-eyed children gather 'round
The Sabbath meal.
Fresh scrubbed faces.
Happy voices.
Filled with song and rhyme.
Begging Grandma for a story.
She says "Once upon a time!"
"The bases they were loaded in the fall of sixty-eight.
Gibby threw a fast ball that was
nowhere near the plate.
'Strike three! You're Out!'
I thanked the Lord for such a lousy call.
Oy! Grandma loves her
baseball most of all.
Grandma loves her baseball most
of all.
Days go by. Sunrise,
sunset.
So swiftly flow the years.
Grandma is too weak to make
The Sabbath meal.
Great-grandchildren gather
'round
To say their last good-byes.
Grandma says "My children, listen!
And do as I advise!"
"Never think of bunting when the count is three to two.
Always bat the pitcher if a sacrifice
will do.
May you be inducted into Baseball's
Sacred Hall."
Oy! Grandma loves her baseball
most of all.
Grandma loves her baseball most
of all.
Copyright 2000 Jacqueline
S. Levy
