Critics say you're getting rich -- Big collections and all sich; Send 'em -- where it smells of pitch, Billy Sunday. Is a hundred cents or so For each creature saved from woe Overcharge? I'd like to know, Billy Sunday. Critics say your words are coarse, From a non-collegiate source; But they never doubt their force, Billy Sunday. Critics say your mode is rough, And your methods simply tough; But the devil's smooth enough, Billy Sunday. Critics hate your notions most, -- Devil, hell, and Holy Ghost; But you're saving men, a host, Billy Sunday. And the thousands that you win From the lowest depths of sin Stick to you through thick and thin, Billy Sunday. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STATUE AND THE BUST by ROBERT BROWNING ON THE DEATH OF MR. CRASHAW by ABRAHAM COWLEY THE CONFLICT by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE ODYSSEY: THE GARDENS OF ALCINOUS by HOMER JAFFAR by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT A SONNET, TO THE NOBLE LADY, THE LADY MARY WROTH by BEN JONSON |