'Twas the night before Cub Christmas, and this is the news:
Not a person was stirring, not even Pat Hughes.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Sts. Theo & Jed soon would be there.
Tom Ricketts was nestled all snug in his bed,
Visions of World Series titles danced in his head.
Arrieta with his Cy Young tucked under his cap,
Had just settled on down for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
I ran into the ballpark to see what was the matter.