Blessed Be Baseball

The game was on! The cheers and roars Rang Eastward to Long Island's shores; "Come on, you Matty--show your class!" "Oh, you Red Murray! Scorch the grass!"

"Heads up, Big Injun!" "Scoop 'em, Bridwell!" "Devore stole home! And sure he slid well!" These and a thousand other roars Rang Eastward to Long Island's shores.

And folks of various sorts were there From East Side yeggs to ladies fair; Here a tragedian, there a joker, Here a banker and there a broker. Young dry goods clerks with booze clerks mingled, And all sat in with nerves that tingled.

One white-haired woman sat alone, Proud as a queen upon her throne. One dear old lady, calm, sedate, Age, very likely, eighty-eight. "Isn't she sweet?" the women said; "Look at that lovely silvery head!"

As in the sun she serenely basked A rooter sitting beside her asked: "How did you come to get away?" "My grandson," she answered, "died to-day!"