VI.
Much like the mutt with home plate well in sight,
Who sprints on in with long, stake-winning stride,
Bringing the tying run with bulging pride;
As hope once more soars upward, like a kite
Who thinks he’s got it beat all right, all right;
While thousands clamor: “Hit the dirt, there—slide!”
When over all the tumult, far and wide,
The umpire shrieks, “You’re out!” in mad delight.
So I got mine in true O’Loughlin style:
Just when I thought the game would be a tie
Her old man yelled, “You’re out about a mile,”
And waved me back with murder in his eyes.
“I’m acting umpire in this park,” says he;
“So don’t you pass no funny talk with me.”