THE beaver and the busy bee Have not a single thing on me— Like them, I toil and never skirk, But they get credit for their work! Down in the little, sun-swept yard, Each day I labor, labor hard— I fling until my back is sore— I work two full games, maybe more— When any star is whipped and tanned, I'm ready—I am right at hand! When the blamed score is ten to three Against us—then they call on me! Fine chance for me to gather fame, In taking up a losing game! Just subject to a thankless call— A bullpen pitcher—that is all! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BATTLE-CRY OF FREEDOM by GEORGE FREDERICK ROOT AN HYMN OF HEAVENLY BEAUTY by EDMUND SPENSER ELEGIAC STANZAS SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ADOLESCENCE by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT SPHINX-MONEY by MATHILDE BLIND FIRST NIGHT-FLIGHT by MARGARET BODEN |