A Knights Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Nashville,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Nashville Knights baseball player.

The bat bags were hung from the dug out with care,
In hopes that opening day soon would be there.

The Knights were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of a league championship danced in their heads.
And Bill in his catchers gear, and I in my maroon cap,
Had just stretched out our old bodies for an off season nap.

When out on the infield there arose such a clatter,
the Knights sprang from the dugout to see what was the matter.
Away to Merrill's pitching machine the Knights flew in a flash,
Tore open a dozen new balls and began to hit with a smash.

The lights from Independence School on the freshly cut grass,
Gave the lustre of a big league field to the Knights as they practiced.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a sleeveless Ross Harkins as the crowd began to cheer.

With a tobacco chewing pitcher, so lively and quick,
I new in a moment it had to be right hander Robin Burnette.
More rapid than galloping horses the Knights they came,
As Coach Gubbins whistled, and shouted and called them by name.

Now Scott, now Steve, now Bruce and Jim, on Mark, on Doc,on Doug and David,
To the top of the batting order, to the top of the standings,
Now hit away, hit away, hit away all.

Santa sprang from the dugout to stand in the on deck circle,
And before disappearing into the sky gave his final pregame insight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good Knight !