Tigers
Tigers, Tigers, burning bright;
In the ballparks of the night;
Your fielding's fair, your pitching atroit;
So why no penneny for Detroit.
You blaze into the big league parks;
With bats that rarely give off sparks;
When at last they add up the score;
You lost again to Baltamore.
The Cleaveland Indians go to work;
They beat you good, so does New Youk;
When Washington adds a mortal blow;
All you can cry is look out below.
Tigers, Tigers, burning bright;
In those ballparks of the night;
Some day the fans will get their fill;
And ship the team to Louisville.
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