Baseball Poem, 1886

[cyseymour]

Oh, don't you remember the game of base-ball we saw twenty years ago played,
When contests were true, and the sight free to all, and home-runs in plenty were made?
When we lay on the grass, and with thrills of delight, watched the squarely pitched at the bat,
And easily hit, and then mount out of sight with our cheers and our hat?
And then, while fielders raced after the ball, the men on the bases flew round,
And came in together - four batters in all. Ah! That was the old game renouned.
Now salaried pitchers, who throw the ball curved at padded and masked catchers lame
And gate-money music and seats all reserved is all that is left of the game.
Oh, give us the glorious days of old, when love of true sport made them great,
And not this new-fashioned affair always sold for the boodle they take at the gate.

H.C. Dodge, 1886



Couldn't be more true today, fellas...