THE Manager, with stony glare, Frowns on the timid youth— "I gotta tell ya," booms the boss, "A hard and cruel truth! Ya'll never do—ya can't make good— Ya're nothin' but a dub— Go get a job at pilin' hay— Ya can't stick with the club!" The timid youth, with signs and moans, Goes out upon his way— Builds up his basehits and his skill, And then returns some day— Comes back upon another team, And trims his former crew, Which makes the Manager paint all The ozone green and blue! |