Base-Ball Ballads/The Raven Up-to-Date

by Grantland Rice

 

THE RAVEN UP-TO-DATE.

Last night while I pondered dreary, grouchy, sore, and limp and leary,
 O'er the dope in my apartments, far up on the thirteenth floor;
As I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
 As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
 "Tis some bill collector," thought I, "rapping at my chamber door—
    Only that and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, I was thinking of September,
 And the finish of the league race—what the future had in store;
And I started prophesying where the pennant would be flying,
 Till at last I gave up trying, feeling very sad and sore,
 For the dope was so uncertain that I gave up sad and sore,
    Grumbling slowly: "Nevermore."

As I sat there, nearly bug house, longing for a near-by jug house,
 Once again I heard the tapping, tapping at my chamber door;
So I oped it, shrinking craven, wishing for some happy haven,
 When behold! there flapped a Raven, stalking in across the floor—
 Stalking Edgar Allen Poeish, right across my rugless floor.
    Ach, du Leiber! I was sore.

"Raven!" cried I, "why the devil have you come here? On the level,
 I thought Mr. Poe had written you would enter nevermore.
What has brought you, you intriguer, with that look so keen and eager?
 Speak up there, you old bush leaguer; why have you returned, you bore?
 State your trouble and then skip, sir: leave me quickly, I implore!"
    Quoth the Raven: "What's the score?"