 Coach's Wife |
| Dedicated to my husband Scott and my son Nathaniel and all the patient moms and wives who show up. ©Linda Allen 2007 I am the coach's wife, it's not The life I would have chosen But here I am at 42 degrees Sitting in the bleachers, leanin' on my knees Hopin' my boy gets a hit, oh, please Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please Little did I know when I married my husband Underneath the poet and the peaceful warrior Lurked the heart of a super-sized jock Who rocked our baby to baseball talk Presented him a bat before he could walk I like to hike and maybe some biking Theater and concerts, poetry dates But fate just laughed and gave me him With his trickster eyes and Saturday grin And it's off to the ball park once again Hum, batter, batter, Hum, batter, batter Give it a ride, give it a ride Find a gap, sit back and drive it Slide, slide, slide I'm in love with my boys of summer My boys of spring and fall and winter Oh, my God, it's a suicide squeeze My boy's in the middle, it's 42 degrees The coach, his dad, is on his knees Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please |