SUNDAY BASEBALL

The East Side Slashers were playing the Terrors,

Piling up hits, assists and errors;

Far from their stuffy tenement homes

That cluster thicker than honeycombs,

They ran the bases like busy bees,

Fanned by the Hudson's cooling breeze.

Mrs. Hamilton-Marshall-Gray,

Coming from church, chanced to pass that way.

She saw the frolicking urchins there,

Their shrill cries splitting the Sabbath air.

“Mercy!” she murmured, “this must stop!”

Then promptly proceeded to call a cop;

And the cop swooped down on the luckless boys,

Stopping their frivolous Sunday joys.

Mrs. Hamilton-Marshall-Gray

Spoke to her coachman and drove away

Through beautiful parks, o'er shady roads,

Past splashing fountains and rich abodes.

Reaching her home, she was heard to say

“How awful to break the Sabbath day!”

The Slashers and Terrors, side by side,

Started their stifling subway ride

Down through the city, ever down

To the warping walls of Tenement Town.

Reaching their homes, the troublesome tots

Crept away to their shabby cots

And dreamed of the grass and the droning bees,

The pure, cool air and the waving trees,

And how they had played their baseball game

Till the Beautiful Christian Lady came.