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Sunday, July 26th, 1981
Ode to the Peckers
By Anononymous
Born to lose and ready to roll
The Woodpeckers of Sinkwood didn't have no soul
Then out of the ashes like a Phoenix with might
They started playing the game real out of sight
Coach Lynnstock steered them to win after win
And his mouth kept spewing out all kinds of sin
They got a pitcher who throws like the great Sandy K
But he's only ten years old, turned it in May
Lynnstock the shortstop keeps hitting like Cobb
He better hit for money, his dad owes the mob
The catcher can't hit, neither can the rest
But the team's just a-winning and that's the true test
So if you come out to watch the little Peckers play
And the sun is shining on that wonderful day
Expect a win on the grass, not a loss in the muck
And close your ears because Coach will yell Fuck!
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