Presenting a Crummy Poem Written for Mike Trout

Oh, Mike Trout.
Why do you pout?
Are you worried you’ll make a fly ball out?
What’s that sad face all about?
You’re the best rookie in baseball, no doubt.

Oh, Mike Trout.
Why are you sore?
You’re the league’s best player, says Fangraphs WAR!
Did they run out of Mountain Dew at the store?
Check back tomorrow, they’ll surely have more.

Oh, Mike Trout.
Why are you sad?
Did you forget to TiVo the new Breaking Bad?
Did Pujols say something mean ‘bout your dad?
Or did you remember that nightmare you had?

Oh, Mike Trout.
It’ll all be O.K.
You aren’t wealthy now, but you will be some day.
You’ll buy a nice watch with liquid crystal display.
And a beautiful home down in Barnegat Bay.

Oh, Mike Trout.
Why must you fret?
Did your cousin crash his souped-up Chevette?
May I suggest hearing a nice string quartet?
Some Bartók would raise your spirits, I bet.

Oh, Mike Trout.
Not a classical fan?
Perhaps you’re more of a death metal man.
Maybe you enjoy the stylings of Steely Dan?
Switch out the music, but stick to the plan.

Oh, Mike Trout.
Why do you pout?
Are you worried you’ll make a fly ball out?
What’s that sad face all about?
You’re the best rookie in baseball, no doubt.