'Twas a very
warm day in the fore part of June,
I went for a drink to McFee's;
I had an engagement at twelve o'clock noon,
With a friend of mine, Michael McGee.
We were talking together, when in from the street
Came one of those baseballing pets;
He wore yellow stockings, had spikes on his feet,
And says he, "I'm one of the Mets."
Says McGee, hould yer jaw,
ye've no need of that same,
Don't you think to scare anyone here;
For I have a nine that will play ye a game,
For a twenty case note and the beer.
We'll have five in the field for the baseball to run,
And a smart man to make private bets;
And we'll wear little hats for to keep out the sun,
When McGee's nine plays the Mets.
So McGee called a meeting
and put down the names
Of each man who was going to play;
There was big Jimmy Dugan whose father was lame,
And the long-winded Timothy Shay.
There was Kelly and Reilly whose kids fight like cats,
And they all felt as proud as proud as cadets;
And McManus was elected to carry the bats,
When McGee's nine played the Mets.
McMullen was elected to
stop the ball short,
The two Flynns and myself had the bases;
And nice little nate iron cages we bought,
So the ball wouldn't strike in our faces.
The game started off with the Mets at the bat,
But our boys stood their ground like old vets;
And the divil a one could hit the ball a rap,
When McGee's nine played the Mets.
'Twas the very last inning,
the game was a tie,
The excitement was simply intense;
When ould Jerry Mullen grabbed hould of the bat,
And knocked the ball plum thro' the fence.
Five men on the bases and all got home,
And many's a cheer Mullen gets;
And extras were published all over the town,
How McGee's nine bate the Mets. |
