THEY say that the winter is gentle and mild, But the length of the winter is what drives us wild— Not a game since the autumn began to grow damp Till the time that the clubs mobilize in the camp! Oh, baby! The magnates assure us they'll make some great deals, And give us excitement that ruins our meals— They go to the meetings and peddle the bunk, And then they come home with some horrible junk! Oh, lady! The writers all tell us most wonderful news, And tell us just why the old club cannot lose— And they stir us all up with their dope and their hooey, Which makes it much worse when the club shall go blooey! Oh, misery! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SPARROW HARK IN THE RAIN (ALEXANDER STEPHENS HEARS NEWS) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LOST SHEEP by ELIZABETH CECILIA CLEPHANE THE BOBOLINKS by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH ECHO AND THE FERRY by JEAN INGELOW ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY by JOHN MILTON THE SOLITARY WOODSMAN by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS |