And then to think he’d go and pull a bush league trick like that.”
All his past fame was forgotten; he was now a hopeless “shine,”
They called him “Strike-out Casey” from the mayor on down the line.
And as he came to bat each day his bosom heaved a sigh,
While a look of hopeless fury shone in mighty Casey’s eye.
The lane is long, some one has said, that never has a turn again,
And Fate, though fickle, often gives another chance to men.
And Casey smiled—his rugged face no longer wore a frown;
The pitcher who had started all the trouble came to town.
All Mudville had assembled; ten thousand fans had come