When it was spring and we were pegged for number one
We used to dream a thousand runs would get it done
But now those days are gone; the pitching’s been exposed
Starting is low-quality; the bullpen’s getting hosed

Help us if you can, we’re in fourth place
And we’ve been eliminated from the race
Help us, now we’ve fallen on our face
Won’t you please, please help us?

As soon as April changes came so many ways
Consistent hitting seemed to vanish in the haze
The lack of defense made the pitchers insecure
And by July the ‘pen was fried, and Farnsworth weren’t the cure

Help us if you can, we’re way behind
And bad contracts really have us in a bind
Help us be contenders in oh-nine
Won’t you please, please help us?

Well, now we cannot blame the fat guy at first base
He’s been a real bright spot in a season of disgrace
And Granderson, Armando, Maggs have had the touch
The pitching, though, it really blows, and Sheffield just as much