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.