Brents' Fine Poetry

Rain, rain go away

So a full game we can fuckin play

The play of the Brewers was putrid to start

As if we were overcome by a stale beer fart

A first inning slam gave the opposing team a lead

Freddie did a special dance at first like he hadn't peed

Too bad Larry's early scouting report proved wrong

He must have been hittin one too many a bong

Darrin bitched his glasses were wet- What a wussy!

He redeemed himself by going home and pounding that pussy

The return of Fitch gave the team a charge

He spent the first part of the season just livin large

The Brewers drank beers in a can not a glass

Our newest fan has a really tight ass

The dike umpire cunt said after this inning your through

How the hell could she take the fun from the Crew?

Mike and the Haigmeister combined on a seventeen hitter

Brent needed to pinch a loaf declaring "I'm headed to the shitter"

A young man named Walsh turned out to be the star

He took home the trophy in his fucked up Sconny car

...and last thing for the night, hats off to Bill Voigt tonight for showin up, knowing he's in fact blood related to Mike Voigt, and still having the gall to present himself in front of other living human beings!

I think we've had some great brother moments in the last few years on the Brewers, and that is an important life lesson! Like the time Joe Hargreaves, brother of Dan, showed up, as the brothers went a combined 4-7 and then filled an entire trash barrell with Pure 100% Hargreaves Pee...or when Darin's brother showed up and played with the sky blue and urine yellow Brew Crew and showed us some uploaded pictures of Darin taking a dump on his old HS hockey jersey the night he got benched for telling the coach he had a masturbating injury from the night before...

The things we'll never forget folks.

Priceless.

Twas 2nd last week of softball, and all 'cross McMurray,
Were hot dogs and skeeters and Bobs Brat slidin fury...
Beers were ice cold,
Jokes of kinkiness were told,
And the Voigts sure did leave in a hurry.

Well folks, it has quickly and stupidly and dumbly and untimely untimely...come to this: the last week of the softball year. (it's not for another week).

A sad day it will be.

Yeah, right! It will be glorious, showered in the victory dance of a possible victory(or not)!

Come one, come all...bring the kids, bring the baby, bring the dog, bring Bob, Zach if he needs a ride, some hustle, some ice, some ketchup and some mustard and some sliced up onion if you don't bike to the park(just kidding, I got this: I'm bring little slivers of onions, to celebrate Bob's hustle and Darin's enthusiasm for sandboxes(I don;t know what that means)!

There's a circus in town, and it's a bunch of commoner, about average softball playin life hounds who will be there...or they will be square, like softballs are not.

The game tonight had the itch of a comeback, down 7-1 and brewed as close as 7-5 before the wheels of the barrell went round and round and down the hill...but the hill was mighty, and we drank beers(on the side of that hill) until the mosquitos started freeloadin beers out of our veins like rabid leeches on an injured whale! (for those of you that don't know, that's serious sh!t)....

So, strap on your drinking belt, tie up you sippin shoes, and wear your smokin cap...cuz next week, the Real Brewers show up, the whole damn lot, and we'll do it up for ya'll real nice....right in the CAN!