OH FATHER, dear father, come home with me now— The seventeenth inning is done— The night settles fast on the bleachers and stands, And there isn't a sign of a run! Oh father, dear father, pass up the darned game, And hurry right home with me now, For mother just 'phoned that she'll wait half an hour Ere she bounces an iron off your brow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBIN REDBREAST by GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 4. THE MARKET-GIRL by THOMAS HARDY A QUOI BON DIRE by CHARLOTTE MEW THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 101. THE ONE HOPE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI HUMAN FLIES by KATHARINE ADAMS |