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THE CHAMPS OF THE ALLEY LEAGUE.
But out from the mad fanatics my fancy wanders free
From the hopes of a glad to-morrow to the land of the used-to-be,
Far from the "spit-ball" gossip, far from "McGraw's intrigue,"
Where I "played first" on "The Ragged Stars," the champs of the Alley League.
From the hopes of a glad to-morrow to the land of the used-to-be,
Far from the "spit-ball" gossip, far from "McGraw's intrigue,"
Where I "played first" on "The Ragged Stars," the champs of the Alley League.
And what is the mighty Wagner to Mickey, "The Human Slat,"
Who batted around "eight hundred," with a broomstick for a bat?
Where is the "big league gameness" of stars they have set on thrones
To "Johnny the Jew," who tied the score with a slide over cobblestones?
"Matthewson's curves are a mystery," "Walsh is a wonder, too,"
But Pat Maguire set the "strike-out" mark with a pellet of "yarn and glue;"
Boast of your Chance and Jennings, winners of keen intrigue;
But they never stacked up with "The Ragged Stars," the champs of the Alley League.
Who batted around "eight hundred," with a broomstick for a bat?
Where is the "big league gameness" of stars they have set on thrones
To "Johnny the Jew," who tied the score with a slide over cobblestones?
"Matthewson's curves are a mystery," "Walsh is a wonder, too,"
But Pat Maguire set the "strike-out" mark with a pellet of "yarn and glue;"
Boast of your Chance and Jennings, winners of keen intrigue;
But they never stacked up with "The Ragged Stars," the champs of the Alley League.
Just at this time every season, when the March sun warms the town;
When the little green leaves peep shyly from the stark, bare limbs of brown;
When the voice of the rooter rises in the roll of a rippling cheer,
The winds of another springtime blow back from another year
When the little green leaves peep shyly from the stark, bare limbs of brown;
When the voice of the rooter rises in the roll of a rippling cheer,
The winds of another springtime blow back from another year
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