There aren’t a whole lot of songs in the Thanksgiving holiday repertoire. Just about the only recent one, Adam Sandler’s “The Thanksgiving Song,” is already a nonsense spoof, so making a nonsense spoof of it
is a tad redundant. Still, the probably best-known ditty of this holiday stems from a poem written by Lydia Marie Child in 1844, right around the time baseball was being invented, giving it an obvious baseball tie-in.
Over the river and down 94
To the White Sox house we go,
We all know the way despite our dismay
At how the seasons flow.
Over the river and down 94
To where such ill winds blow
That they cause stands devoid of fans
And wrath with the owners to grow.
Over the river and down 94
As we yearn for first-rate play
With pitches that zing and bats that ring
Could such be the case one day?
Over the river and down 94,
Despite a future gray
Our hopes abound (our minds unsound?)
On this Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river and down 94
To the place now called The Rate
Sox progress we know has been mighty slow
It’s been a mighty long wait.
Over the river and down 94
Our fandom yet to break,
When all’s said and done at least the food’s fun,
Hurrah for the campfire shake!
When all’s said and down at least the food’s fun,
Hurrah for the campfire shake!
