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.