It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood two to four, with but an inning left to play.
So, when Cooney died at second, and Burrows did the same,
A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest,
With that hope which springs eternal within the human breast.
For they thought: "If only Casey could get a whack at that,"
They'd put even money now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, and likewise so did Blake,
And the former was a pudd'n and the latter was a flake.
So on that stricken multitude a deathlike silence sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
Bu Flynn let drive a "single," to the wonderment of all.
And much-despised Blakey "tore the cover off the ball."
And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occured,
There was Blakey safe at second, and Flynn a-huggin' third.
Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell-
It rumbled in the mountaintops, it rattled in the dell;
It struck upon the hillside and rebounded on the flat
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place,
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face;
And when responding to the cheers he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousadn eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt,
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then when the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance glanced in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather~overed sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty granduer there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped;
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm waves on the stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult, he made the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroied flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and tile umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed;
Theu saw his face grom stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lips, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel vengeance his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the ari is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville: Mighty Casey has struck out.
ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER
It seems you don't know
how beautiful you are
I have to tell you,
You're one of my three shining stars
You know the first two
are my wonderful sons
and then there is you
smile as bright as sun
It takes nothing for me
to get lost in your eyes
and i can't keep my hands
off your silky smooth thighs
Your pretty deep dimples
and silky red hair
you make me feel special
with the time that we share
You stay on my mind
while we're apart
I have to admit
that you've captured my heart
The bath you gave me was
so nice and especially the rub down
I truly thank the lord
for the treasure I've found
I had two shinig stars
but now I have three
you don't know
how beautiful you are to me
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