S is for steroids that used to be,
L’s for luck he can no longer see,
U is for umpire Steve, who is making him grieve,
M is for Mickey, with wishes that he could be he,
P’s for paltry score; if he could only gain some more.

He is starting to get real sore.

Slump is when things aren’t going too good,
slump mean few hits with that stick of wood.
Stuck, he’s no Bronx Bomber. . .just seems that he can’t loft nada:
slump means he ain’t pumped, it’s true.

S is for second and shortstop Lee,
L is for loser, and that is he,
U is for upper seats, from where jeering ain’t sweet,
M’s for miserable: that is how he feels, and beat,
P’s for a big pour of booze he’d like from liquor store.

It’s boo’s he’s hearing the crowd roar.

Slump sucks—average tanked to .082. . .
slumping back to the dugout to rue.
A hit: he can taste it! When it don’t come. . .has a shit fit.
Slump ain’t somethin’ to pursue.

Slump is worse than a dry hump with Sue,
slump’s hit him. . .no one else in the crew.
So his heart is breakin’; still a lot o’ dough he’s making.
Slump makes him grumpy and blue.

Sluggin’s somethin’ he can’t do.