Base-Ball Ballads/The Ump's Midwinter Dream

by Grantland Rice

 

THE UMP'S MIDWINTER DREAM.

It was a sunny day in spring;The warbling birds were all a-wing;An April sky of azure hueEnchanted the fanatic's view,And sultry was the atmosphereUpon the first game of the year.Upon the field His Umps appeared,And, lo! the throng arose and cheered,While all around the fife and drumsPlayed "Hail! the Conquering Hero Comes."

The game began, and to the plateThe first man wandered up, sedate;"Strike one, strike two, strike three—you're out!"The umpire waited for the shoutOf rage from all around, but notA murmur bubbled from the lot;The player bowed and walked away,Without another word to say;Nor paused, with language somewhat freeImpugning his ancestral tree.Nobody had a kick to make,However costly his mistake;And when a foul tip off the batCame hurling by and knocked him flat,In sympathy the bleachers satWith saddened hearts and tear-dimmed eyes,Until once more they saw him rise. He was to player and to fanA scholar and a gentleman,While every paper in the landWas boosting him to "beat the band."

And then in joy he gave a shout,And woke to FIND HIS PIPE WAS OUT!