BLESSED BE BASEBALL

The game was on! The cheers and roars

Rang Eastward to Long Island's shores;

“Come on, you Matty — show your class!”

“Oh, you Red Murray! Scorch the grass!”

“Heads up, Big Injun!” “Scoop‘ em, Bridwell!”

“Devore stole home! And sure he slid well!”

These and a thousand other roars

Rang Eastward to Long Island's shores.

And folks of various sorts were there

From East Side yeggs to ladies fair;

Here a tragedian, there a joker,

Here a banker and there a broker.

Young dry goods clerks with booze clerks mingled,

And all sat in with nerves that tingled.

One white-haired woman sat alone,

Proud as a queen upon her throne.

One dear old lady, calm, sedate,

Age, very likely, eighty-eight.

“Is n't she sweet?” the women said;

“Look at that lovely silvery head!”

As in the sun she serenely basked

A rooter sitting beside her asked:

“How did you come to get away?”

“My grandson,” she answered, “died to-day!”