Chuck's Fun Page 2

A follow-up poem to Casey at the Bat - also a poem I read several times as a kid - just some nostalgia showing up in my blog.

Casey's Revenge
by Grantland Rice

Published: The Speaker (06-1907)

There were saddened hearts in Mudville for a week or even more;
There were muttered oaths and curses- every fan in town was sore.
"Just think," said one, "how soft it looked with Casey at the bat,
And then to think he'd go and spring a bush league trick like that!"

All his past fame was forgotten- he was now a hopeless "shine."
They called him "Strike-Out Casey," from the mayor down the line;
And as he came to bat each day his bosom heaved a sigh,
While a look of hopeless fury shone in mighty Casey's eye.

He pondered in the days gone by that he had been their king,
That when he strolled up to the plate they made the welkin ring;
But now his nerve had vanished, for when he heard them hoot
He "fanned" or "popped out" daily, like some minor league recruit.

He soon began to sulk and loaf, his batting eye went lame;
No home runs on the score card now were chalked against his name;
The fans without exception gave the manager no peace,
For one and all kept clamoring for Casey's quick release.

The Mudville squad began to slump, the team was in the air;
Their playing went from bad to worse - nobody seemed to care.
"Back to the woods with Casey!" was the cry from Rooters' Row.
"Get some one who can hit the ball, and let that big dub go!"

The lane is long, some one has said, that never turns again,
And Fate, though fickle, often gives another chance to men;
And Casey smiled; his rugged face no longer wore a frown-
The pitcher who had started all the trouble came to town.

All Mudville had assembled - ten thousand fans had come
To see the twirler who had put big Casey on the bum;
And when he stepped into the box, the multitude went wild;
He doffed his cap in proud disdain, but Casey only smiled.

"Play ball!" the umpire's voice rang out, and then the game began.
But in that throng of thousands there was not a single fan
Who thought that Mudville had a chance, and with the setting sun
Their hopes sank low- the rival team was leading "four to one."

The last half of the ninth came round, with no change in the score;
But when the first man up hit safe, the crowd began to roar;
The din increased, the echo of ten thousand shouts was heard
When the pitcher hit the second and gave "four balls" to the third.

Three men on base - nobody out - three runs to tie the game!
A triple meant the highest niche in Mudville's hall of fame;
But here the rally ended and the gloom was deep as night,
When the fourth one "fouled to catcher" and the fifth "flew out to right."

A dismal groan in chorus came; a scowl was on each face
When Casey walked up, bat in hand, and slowly took his place;
His bloodshot eyes in fury gleamed, his teeth were clenched in hate;
He gave his cap a vicious hook and pounded on the plate.

But fame is fleeting as the wind and glory fades away;
There were no wild and woolly cheers, no glad acclaim this day;
They hissed and groaned and hooted as they clamored: "Strike him out!"
But Casey gave no outward sign that he had heard this shout.

The pitcher smiled and cut one loose - across the plate it sped;
Another hiss, another groan. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
Zip! Like a shot the second curve broke just below the knee.
"Strike two!" the umpire roared aloud; but Casey made no plea.

No roasting for the umpire now - his was an easy lot;
But here the pitcher whirled again- was that a rifle shot?
A whack, a crack, and out through the space the leather pellet flew,
A blot against the distant sky, a speck against the blue.

Above the fence in center field in rapid whirling flight
The sphere sailed on - the blot grew dim and then was lost to sight.
Ten thousand hats were thrown in air, ten thousand threw a fit,
But no one ever found the ball that mighty Casey hit.

O, somewhere in this favored land dark clouds may hide the sun,
And somewhere bands no longer play and children have no fun!
And somewhere over blighted lives there hangs a heavy pall,
But Mudville hearts are happy now, for Casey hit the ball.

A poem I read many, many times when I was a kid...

Casey at the Bat

by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

Published: The Examiner (06-03-1888)

The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Casey could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.

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.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

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.

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.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.

Twas in a restaurant they met,
  Romeo and Juliet.
  He had no cash to pay the debt,
So Romeo'd what Juliet.

Here's today's quickie - and we must have a quickie every day!


Lipstick is a lovely gift
Every corporate wife reports,
Unless her hubby brings it home
On the front of his undershorts.

I hope it was thrilling for you as well.

The missus bought a Paperback,
Down Shepton, Saturday.
I had a look inside her bag;
T’was “Fifty Shades Of Grey”.

Well I just left her to it,
And at ten I went to bed.
An hour later she appeared;
The sight filled me with dread…

In her left she held a rope
And in her right a whip!
She threw them down upon the floor,
And then began to strip.

Well fifty years or so ago.
I might have had a peek.
But Mabel hasn’t weathered well,
She’s eighty four next week!!

Watching Mabel bump and grind,
Could not have been much grimmer.
And things then went from bad to worse,
She toppled off her Zimmer!

She struggled back upon her feet,
A couple minutes later.
She put her teeth back in and said
I must be the dominater!!

Now if you knew our Mabel,
You’d see just why I spluttered.
I’d spent two months in traction,
For the last complaint I’d uttered.

She stood there nude and naked,
Bent forward just a bit.
I went to hold her, sensual like,
and stood on her left tit!!

Mabel screamed, her teeth shot out,
My god what had I done!?
She moaned and groaned then shouted out:
“Step on the other one”!!

Well readers, I can’t tell no more..

About what occurred that day.
Suffice to say my jet black hair,
Turned fifty shades of grey.

Gene Autry sang of Rudolph
His nose so red and bright
And how he'd guide Santa's sleigh
On those foggy nights

Yes, Rudolph was a now a hero
The way the story goes
But have you ever stopped to think
How Rudolph got that nose?

It all started years ago
That's what the reindeer say
No matter what the reindeer did
Rudolph was always in their way

He was in the middle of their work
And in their way at play
When he got in the middle of their football game
An accident happened that day

The score was tied six to six
With just seconds left to go
When Prancer decided to try and kick
A thirty yard field goal

Donner was ready with the ball
Prancer's foot was back to kick
Then all of a sudden from nowhere
In Rudolph's nose did stick

Prancer's foot came flying
As the story goes
But instead of kicking the football
He kicked Rudolph on his nose

Rudolph's nose began to swell
Then it began to glow
The sky was lit for miles and miles
From Rudolph's bright red nose

Many years have now gone past
Since that awful day
Although, the swelling has long been gone
His nose still glows today

So now you know the whole story
It wasn't Rudolph who saved the night
For if it hadn't been for Prancer's foot
Santa would have neve made the flight

Woody Woodruff
Dec 1996

Found on Miss Cellania's blog.
-

This poem is one of those sappy things that has made it's way through the Internet, but I thought this one was a little better than most...

A minister passing through his
church in the middle of the day,
Decided to pause by the altar
and see who had come to pray.
Just then the back door opened,
a man came down the aisle,
The minister frowned as he saw the man
hadn't shaved in a while.
His shirt was kinda shabby and
his coat was worn and frayed.
The man knelt, he bowed his head,
then rose and walked away.

In the days that followed,
each noon time came this chap, Each time he
knelt just for a moment,
a lunch pail in his lap.

Well, the minister's suspicions grew,
with robbery a main fear,
He decided to stop the man and ask him,
"What are you doing here?"
The old man, he worked down the road.
Lunch was half an hour.
Lunchtime was his prayer time,
for finding strength and power.

"I stay only moments, see,
because the factory is so far away;
As I kneel here talking to the Lord,
this is kinda what I say:

"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,
HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S
FRIENDSHIP
AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.
DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY,
BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.
SO, JESUS, THIS IS JIM CHECKING IN."

The minister feeling foolish,
told Jim, that was fine.
He told the man he was welcome to come
and pray just anytime.
Time to go, Jim smiled, said "Thanks."
He hurried to the door.

The minister knelt at the alter,
he'd never done it before.
His cold heart melted, warmed with love,
and met with Jesus there.
As the tears flowed, in his heart,
he repeated old Jim's prayer:

"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, LORD,
HOW HAPPY I'VE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND EACH OTHER'S
FRIENDSHIP
AND YOU TOOK AWAY MY SIN.
I DON'T KNOW MUCH OF HOW TO PRAY,
BUT I THINK ABOUT YOU EVERYDAY.
SO, JESUS, THIS IS ME CHECKING IN."

Past noon one day, the minister noticed
that old Jim hadn't come.
As more days passed without Jim,
he began to worry some.
At the factory, he asked about him,
learning he was ill.

The hospital staff was worried,
but he'd given them a thrill.
The week that Jim was with them,
brought changes in the ward.
His smiles, a joy contagious.
Changed people, were his reward.
The head nurse couldn't understand
why Jim was so glad,
When no flowers, calls or cards came,
not a visitor he had.

The minister stayed by his bed,
he voiced the nurse's concern:
No friends came to show they cared.
He had nowhere to turn.
Looking surprised, old Jim spoke up
and with a winsome smile;
"The nurse is wrong, she couldn't know,
that in here all the while

Everyday at noon He's here,
a dear friend of mine, you see,
He sits right down, takes my hand,
leans over and says to me:

"I JUST CAME AGAIN TO TELL YOU, JIM,
HOW HAPPY I HAVE BEEN,
SINCE WE FOUND THIS FRIENDSHIP,
AND I TOOK AWAY YOUR SIN.
ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR YOU PRAY,
I THINK ABOUT YOU EACH DAY,
AND SO JIM, THIS IS JESUS CHECKING IN."

'Twas the night before Christmas
--Old Santa was pissed.
He cussed out the elves
and threw down his list.

Miserable little brats,
ungrateful little jerks.
I have a good mind
to scrap the whole works!

I've busted my ass
for damn near a year,
Instead of "Thanks Santa"
--what do I hear?

The old lady bitches
cause I work late at night.
The elves want more money--
The reindeer all fight.

Rudolph got drunk
and goosed all the maids.
Donner is pregnant
and Vixen has AIDS.

And just when I thought
that things would get better
Those assholes from the IRS
sent me a letter.

They say I owe taxes--
if that ain't damn funny:
Who ever sent Santa
Claus any money?

And the kids these days--
they all are the pits,
They want the impossible--T
hose mean little shits.

I spent a whole year
making wagons and sleds,
Assembling dolls...
Their arms, legs and heads.

I made a ton of yo yo's--
No request for them,
They want computers and robots...
they think I'm IBM!

Flying through the air...
dodging the trees,
Falling down chimneys
and skinning my knees.

I'm quitting this job
there's just no enjoyment,
I'll sit on my fat ass
and draw unemployment.

There's no Christmas this year,
now you know the reason:
I found me a blonde,
and I'm going south for the season.

An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A cursor used profanity
A keyboard was a piano!

Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you had a 3½ inch floppy
You hoped nobody found out!

Compress was something you did to garbage
Not something you did to a file
And if you unzipped anything in public
You'd be in jail for awhile!

Log on was adding wood to a fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a backup happened to your commode!

Cut - you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A web was a spider's home
And a virus was the flu!

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
And the memory in my head
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash
But when it happens they wish they were dead!