Gaps 4 ,
The outlook wasn't nine that day:
The score stood more to play,
And then when did the same,
A pall-like silence of the game.
A straggling few despair. The rest
Clung to the the human breast;
They thought, "If whack at that?
We'd put up at the bat."
But Flynn preceded also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a cake;
So upon that grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed to the bat.
But Flynn let wonderment of all,
And Blake, the off the ball;
And when the what had occurred,
There was Jimmy Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five a lusty yell;
It rumbled through in the dell;
It pounded on upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty to the bat.
There was ease into his place;
There was pride lit Casey's face.
And when, responding doffed his hat,
No stranger in at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues on his shirt;
Then while the into his hip,
Defiance flashed in curled Casey's lip.
And now the through the air,
And Casey stood haughty grandeur there.
Close by the ball unheeded sped?
"That ain't my the umpire said.
From the benches, a muffled roar,
Like the beating and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill on the stand;
And it's likely raised his hand.
With a smile Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the game go on;
He signaled to dun sphere flew;
But Casey still said, "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful audience was awed.
They saw his his muscles strain,
And they knew go by again.
The sneer is clenched in hate,
He pounds with upon the plate;
And now the lets it go,
And now the of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in is shining bright,
The band is hearts are light;
And somewhere men somewhere children shout,
But there is has struck out.