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THE CHAMPS OF THE ALLEY LEAGUE.
Just at this time every season, when the sun beats down on the street;
When the breath of another springtime comes up with its fragrance sweet;
When the winter league race is over, and the clans of a new campaign
Are camped in the fields of Dixie, cheered on by the fan refrain;
As they talk of a coming pennant or speak of an all-star team
My fancy flies on the south wind, on the crest of an old, old dream,
Back where the eye gleamed brightly, where the soul knew no fatigue,
When I was one of "The Ragged Stars," the champs of the Alley League.
When the breath of another springtime comes up with its fragrance sweet;
When the winter league race is over, and the clans of a new campaign
Are camped in the fields of Dixie, cheered on by the fan refrain;
As they talk of a coming pennant or speak of an all-star team
My fancy flies on the south wind, on the crest of an old, old dream,
Back where the eye gleamed brightly, where the soul knew no fatigue,
When I was one of "The Ragged Stars," the champs of the Alley League.
I hear that the "fever is rising," that "the great fan flock once more
Is ready to sit in the bleachers and cheer for the winning score;"
They speak of a "coming wonder," they talk of a "flag to fly,"
They whisper the thrilling story of "Mike and his batting eye;"
Is ready to sit in the bleachers and cheer for the winning score;"
They speak of a "coming wonder," they talk of a "flag to fly,"
They whisper the thrilling story of "Mike and his batting eye;"
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