Lilly is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to sit down in green bleachers:
He leadeth me beside Old-Style Vendors.
He restoreth my glove:
He leadeth me in the paths of no designated hitter for His bat’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of St. Louis
I will fear no Molina, for Lilly is with me
His elbow and his knee, they comfort me
Thou preparest a red-hot for me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my scorecard with Ks; My big-gulp runneth over.
Surely Maddux and Santo shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the Park of Lilly forever.
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