Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip, Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at 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. Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat, For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat. But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all, And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred, There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third. But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that- We'd put up even money now with Casey at the bat. A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game. A Ballad of the Republic, Sung in the Year 1888 The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.

Ernest thayer