I'll have a more standard game recap up later today, but with the post-game revelations that Jacque Jones hasn't enjoyed being booed, it inspired a bout of limerick-itis on my train ride this morning, so I'm devoting a post to them.

To be fair, I think Jones has a point - he's only been here for 18 games, and already he's being ridden like Kevin Costner's horse in The Postman, and it doesn't help that Paul Sullivan's coverage in the Tribune is purposefully inflammatory, where his colleagues are considerably more restrained - but for better or worse, this is the way it is at Wrigley these days, and judging from some of his statements about the past treatment of others and how it relates to what he's experiencing, it's not like he was blind to the possibility, unpleasant though it may be.

So, with tongue firmly in cheek, and some genuine sympathy for Mr. Jones' culture shock, I give you these poor poetics and encourage your participation below.

The treatment that Jacque has received
Hath left him perturb-ed and peeved.
The boos he has gotten
Have made him feel rotten
And now he is deeply aggrieved.

Jacque has a beef with the fandom.
He feels that their booing is random.
If Corey were here,
Then Jacque needn't fear,
But sadly for Jones, the Cubs canned 'im.

Compared to his time in The 'Sota
Jacque's booing is well above quota.
Jones gives them the eye,
Then says with a sigh,
"They loved me in Northern Dakota."

"You're a bum!" "You're a chump!" they all crow,
But Jacque's doing his best, don'tcha know?
Still, swinging and missing
Draws booing and hissing
For players who make so much dough.