With apologies to Joe Hill.
Oh the Pohlads come out every year,
Tell Twins fans they've got something to cheer;
But when asked to shell out for their team
They won't tell you they sell a pipe dream:
(Chorus:)
Twins will win, bye and bye,
In that glorious land above the sky;
Shorthanded play, most everyday,
You'll get rings in the sky when you die.
(That’s a lie!)
A nepo baby holds the club's purse strings,
Dave St. Peter counts up their earnings,
Once they've raked your coin into the bank,
That's when they tell you the payroll has shrank.
(chorus)
The Twins needed a new TV deal,
Waves of greenbacks to steady the keel.
"Give your money to Bally," they say,
"They might televise a ballgame today."
(chorus)
There was some talent down on the farm,
Young Brooks Lee and a number of arms;
Big wheels fell off all season, you know:
Carlos, Paddack, Royce, Buxton, Max, and Joe.
(chorus)
Help was needed for several key roles,
To patch a roster with quite a few holes,
The front office was mostly clear-eyed:
Can't sign free agents — their hands were tied.
(chorus)
Private equity holds all the cards,
Socialized losses with private rewards,
Never trust their inherited wealth,
"Caveat emptor" for your mental health.
