Base-Ball Ballads/In the Good Old Winter Time

by Grantland Rice

 

IN THE GOOD OLD WINTER TIME.

(Old, but to the point. As sung by the fan chorus around many circuits.)

I.
An old fan sat one day at a table, small and round,
Drinking every kind of liquid which in that place could be found.
He had forty-seven chances, and he never fumbled one,
Catching sixteen sparkling high balls ere he scored his first home run.

While sitting at that table he began to read the dope,
Which depicted every manager in front up Pennant Slope;
But soon in dreamy fancy from the page he turned away,
And to the near-by barkeep these idle words did say:

Chorus.
"In the good old winter time, the good old winter time,
How swiftly from the bottom all the tail-end people climb.
They call each new recruit a 'peach,' although he is a 'lime.'
O how they nature-fake us in the good old winter time!"

II.
The months rolled by and spring had come, and there on Rooters' Row
The same fan sat with eyes ablaze and ruddy cheeks aglow.
He saw the "Second Wagner" strike out four times in one game,
While seven ghastly errors were chalked up against his name.
He saw the "sterling pitcher" who had "starred" at "Rural Falls,"
Yield nineteen massive bingles and a dozen base on balls,
And then above the battle and the rattle of the fray
He softly hummed the chorus of that far-gone winter day:

Chorus.
"In the good old winter time, the good old winter time,
How swiftly from the bottom all the tail-end people climb!
By summer almost every 'peach' turns out to be a 'lime.'
O how they nature-fake us in the good old winter time!"