So they turned me adrift and I give up my shift; and that’s why I’m out of the game.
I was too bloomin’ good, or I’m certain I would have acquired quite a notable name.”
A FAN’S DIARY.
(March Fifteenth.)
We have the greatest team this year beneath the shining sun.
I’ve studied up the dope on them, yes, every blooming one.
Our fielders are spectacular; and you will throw a fit
When you discover how this bunch can play the game and hit.
Our manager, Mike Johnson, is the only one best bet;
He knows exactly what to do, and what new men to get.
They say he is a wonder at developing a team;
And on the side he always has some pennant-winning scheme.
Jack Smith’s a star at second base, while Jones is great at third;
Young Riley is a Matthewson, and Jackson is a bird;
You’ll never find a better pair upon the firing line—
The very ones to give this town a pennant-winning nine.
There’s no more use in talking, we have got the old flag cinched;
I can see that banner waving, with the pennant good as pinched.
Right from the start it looks to me a runaway this year;
I hope we don’t break up the race (this is my only fear).
(April Fifteenth.)
Hurrah! The season’s started—the opening game’s to-day!
The fans are swarming to the park to see our heroes play;
The whole darn town is turning out, to get in on the fun
And cheer the team that has the flag already good as won.
They have a silver loving cup for Johnson, and a cane
For every other player—O, they’re raving, wild, insane!
They’re cheering like Comanches, all impatient for the fray,
To see our team jump in and take the lead on opening day.