Читать книгу Base-ball Ballads - Grantland Rice - Страница 7

Table of Contents

They were seated in the parlor, and the lights were burning dim—

He was a major leaguer, she a fan, so fair and trim;

But they knew not as he opened up the game by murmuring “Love”

That father was the umpire on the stairway just above.

“I like your form,” he led off first; “with me you’ve made a hit;

Your curves are good, you’ve got the speed, and you are looking fit.

Now if with you, my turtle dove, I make a hit likewise,

Won’t you improve my single life and make a sacrifice?”

“I’ll promise to support you, dear, with all my skill each day;

I’ll draft a pretty home for you and fix it right away.

If you’ll just call the game a tie, I will no longer roam;

And when I slide into the plate, please call me safe at home.”

“First tell me, sir,” she pitched at him, “how high you ranked last fall;

Show me your fielding average and how hard you hit the ball.

He swung like Wagner at his best, a sole-inspiring clout;

The son of swat slid down the steps; the umpire yelled: “You’re out.”

In matrimony’s busy league dumb plays are out of place;

I’d like to know the dope before I play too far off base.”

“Remember that the game is rough when pay days fail to come;

Sometimes the salary whip is lame, the noodle’s on the bum;

And don’t forget you’ll be reserved for life and held in line,

But promise me you’ll never jump your contract, and I’ll sign.”

He started warming up at once, with victory in his eye,

He shoved a fast one round her neck, the other was waist high.

Just here the umpire butted in. She said: “O, father, please,

There’s nothing wrong, for George is only showing me the squeeze!”

The old man gave an irate snort and said: “I’ll help the fun

By showing George another play that’s called ‘the hit and run.’”

He swung like Wagner at his best, a sole-inspiring clout;

The son of swat slid down the steps; the umpire yelled: “You’re out!”