William Frederick Kirk

“ Ant yu tenk dis har ban fun, Little Steena Yohnson?
OLAF Yust two years ago last venter Ay meet Olaf op in camp; Ve ban lumberyacks togedder. Every morning we skol tramp 'Bout sax miles yust after breakfast Till we come to big pine-trees; Den our straw boss he skol make us Vork lak little busy bees. Olaf, he ban yolly faller, He skol taling yoke all day; Sometimes he sing dis har ragtime, Yust to passing time avay. And at night, ven we ban smoking After supper, he skol make All us lumberyacks to laughing Till our belts skol nearly break. ”

“ Ay let all my frends fight dis bourbon and rye, and alvays pass breakfast fude up!" "Fader Olaf, yure eyes ban so bright sum a star, yu ant vear no glasses at all; Ay lak yu to tal me gude reason for dis; ay hope yu don't give me no stall." "All the days of my life," Fader Olaf den say, "ay never ban going to shows, And straining my eyes vatching dese chorus girls vich ant veering wery much clo'es!" Den young faller say, "Fader Olaf, ay tenk yu ban full of yinger, old pal; But yu had to be missing gude times all yure life, so ay skol keep on raising hal!" ”

“ The Kid does this, the Kid does that, the Kid is on the job.”
And so I’m sitting on the bench, my spirits sort o’ low,
And playing memory ball games in the League of Long Ago.
I’m pulling for Kid Casey, and I hope he makes a mint,
I help him every way I can, from cussword down to hint;
[Pg 34] He knows that I am for him, too—’twas only yesterday
He says to me, “Old leaguer, you’ve got ten more years to play.”
But I know that he knows better, and I know just what I’m worth—
A man can’t last forever in the swiftest game on earth. ”

“ It ban a cinch, ay tenk, Some geezer blundered. "Hustle, yu Light Brigade! Yump!" Maester Olson said; Den in the walley of death Go the sax hundred. Cannon on right of dem, Cannon on left of dem, Cannon on top of dem, Wolleyed and t'undered; Smashed vith dis shot and shal, Dey ant do wery val; Most of dem ketching hal,— Nearly sax hundred! Yes, all dem sabres bare Flash purty gude in air; Each faller feel his hair Standing. No vonder! Yudas! It ant ban yob For any coward slob, Fighting dis Russian mob. ”

“ The Yeggmen lead the league just now—that team is full of tricks;
They beat the Con Men yesterday by seventeen to six.
The Lifers have an outside chance to win the prison flag;
The Counterfeiters still have hopes, although they seldom brag.
The pitcher for the Grafters, namely, Alderman McGee,
Has bet his good behavior that they’ll finish one, two, three.
Yes, the finest “inside” baseball I have seen in many a day
Is inside the dear old prison, where they like to have me stay.
The game we had last Saturday was sure a corking sight ”

“ Baseball is better because you are there.
[Pg 63]
POLO IN ARIZONA “How are you, pal?” said Phoenix Phil, when he saw me late last night;
“I’m back from the polo game,” said I, “let’s go and get a bite.”
“These polo games are funny enough,” said my Arizona friend,
“With all their swell society folks and style without no end;
But a polo game worth hiking sixty thousand miles to see
Was a game we played on the desert once,” said Phoenix Phil to me.
“An English guy with an extra eye,” said my Arizona friend,
“Had taught us the game of polo, from beginning clean to end. ”

“ Yu say, "Dese guys ban mostly yaps: Ay vish ay had some money, tu, And not get all dese gude hard raps." Val, Maester, it ban op to yu. Sometimes ay s'pose yu vork long hours, And ant get wery fancy pay; Den yu can't buying stacks of flowers And feed yure girl in gude café, And drenk yin rickies and frappé. Oh, yes! dis mak yu purty blue. Yu lak to have more fun, yu say? Val, Maester, it ban op to yu. Dis vorld ant got much room to spare For men vich make dis hard-luck cry,— 'Bout von square foot vile dey ban har, And six feet after dey skol die. Time "fugit,"—high-school vord for "fly" ”

“ Were quite the whole equipment in the famous Laddies’ League.
[Pg 66]
“It’s funny,” said the Grown-up Fan, his vagrant vision o’er,
“But baseball of this high-class type is something of a bore.
Maybe it’s all too flawless as they run the game to-day—
It doesn’t grip me, somehow, like the games we used to play.”
The Grown-up Fan, a worn old man, began his homeward climb
With memories of the Laddies’ League that bars us all in time.
[Pg 67]
THE $11,000 BEAUTY Of course, McGraw is always wrong—he never picks a winner.
That’s why the Giant’s backers never have the price for dinner. ”

“ Some of dem ban rich men's boys, Who ban having planty toys, Vearing nicest clo'es in town, Lak dis little Buster Brown. Don't yu care! Ven dey grow up, And ban shining at pink tea, Drenking tea from china cup, Yu skol give dem loud tee-hee. Yu skol laugh at dis har mob Ven dey come to yu for yob. Barefoot boy, yu ant got cent; But ay tal yu dis, some day Yu got chance for president Ef dese woters com yure vay. Yust keep vistling all day long, Yust keep senging little song, And ef yu skol alvays love Some one who ban op above, Who ban making day and night, He skol fix yu out all right. ”

“ But always kept that baseball hit so hard by Dan O’Shay.
If you ever go to Sing Sing, which I hope you never will,
You’ll find O’Connor in a cell with that same horsehide pill.
* * *
Yes, the longest hit on record was a hit by Dan O’Shay,
When the Bankers played the Brokers, just five years ago to-day.
[Pg 37]
THE UMPIRE’S HOME Where does an umpire live? You ask me that?
Come, I will take you to an umpire’s flat.
Ah! Here we are! ’Tis five flights up, behind;
Umpires are used to hiding—they don’t mind. ”

“ Yeorge Vashington ban honest man. Ven dis har country first began, Yeorge ban a yen'ral, and yu bet Dese English fallers know it yet. Ven he ban small, his fader say, "Ef yu skol breng in vood to-day, And feeding cow and chickens, tu, Ay skol yust blow myself on yu."
Val, sure enuff, ven Yeorge du chore, His fader hike for hardvare store, And buy gude hatchet, only it Ban second-hand a little bit. Dar ban on edge some little dents, It ban marked down to saxty cents. He pay sax cents to sharpen axe, And so it cost him saxty-sax. He tak it home to Yeorgie, tu, And say, "Ay ant ban fuling you." ”

“ I’ve found, in my baseball excursions,
From Maine to the parks way out West,
That the players who win and draw down the tin,
Are the players who throw out the chest.
But courage is courage, I reckon;
It’s hard to explain, but it’s true;
[Pg 40] And sometimes a fellow that people call yellow
Turns out to be brave and true blue.
One day when a hit meant a pennant
Our “Yellow” came up to the bat ”

“ Speak yentle to the coal-man—he Ban easy to get mad; Ef yu ant getting any coal, By yinger, dat ban bad! Speak yentle to the alderman, Ven he ban feeling blue, And maybe, ven he turn gude trick. He skol whack op vith yu. Speak yentle to yure lady frends, And give gude lots of bunk, Ef yu skol lak to getting chance To put yure clothes in trunk. Speak yentle to Yim Yeffries, tu,— Ay tenk dis ban gude hunch; Den yu ant need to put yure face On Maester Yeffries' punch! Speak yentle everyvere yu go, And people skol forget That yu ban vatching for gude chance Tu vinning every bet! ”

“ Who can guzzle more than the most of men.
But sooner or later he has to go
The way I was chased from the big league show.
“The difference, kid,” said Danny O’Shay,
“Between the hard and the easy way,
As far as ball players goes, at least,
Is a difference big as the West and East. ”

“ A GOOD FELLOW Dey tal me ay ban a gude faller. Ay guess dey ban right; but, yee whiz! Ef yu ever ban a gude faller, Yu know 'bout how costly it is. Ay vork op in voods since Nowember, And ban op on drive all the spring, And den ay com down har in city And vatch all my riches tak ving. Oh, yes, ay ban yolly gude faller,— All venter ay eat pork and beans; Ay only ban har since last Monday, Now ay ant got cent in my yeans. Dese geezers dat call me "Old Stocking," And pat me lak hal on the back, Skol give me gude snub 'bout to-morrow, And calling me "slob lumberyack!" ”

“ Rich merchants criticised McGraw in terms that were unkind—
Merchants with lazy shipping clerks and men that robbed them blind.
But Mac just smiled and held his peace. He should have said: “Don’t whine!
Mismanage your own business, boys, and let me manage mine!”
When Matty’s cunning goes at last—all arms in time must tire—
He’ll leave a great successor in the boy Mac wouldn’t fire.
[Pg 69]
THE LAY OF THE NEW YORK FAN Yes, the baseball season’s over and the geese are flying South;
Giants count their winnings gaily, Yanks are frothing at the mouth. ”

“ Ay s'pose he hunting every day And killing lots of game; Ef he ban missing such a chance, Ay tenk it ban a shame. Some fallers yump on him von day, And taking him to yail, And tal him he skol have to pay Sax tousand dollars' bail. "Yeew hiz!" say Tell. "Sax tousand bones! Ay ant got saxty cents!" And so dey mak him breaking stones Behind big iron fence. Den Olaf Gessler say to him: "Bill, yu ban qvite gude shot, So ay skol give yu yust von chance To vinning nice yack pot. Yure son ban purty brave young kid; Ay tell yu, on the dead, Yu skol go free ef you can shoot Dis apple off his head." ”

“ On any kind of single.
He played the sun-field like a master,
You never saw a fielder faster,
And oh, how he could bingle!
Horatio Hilo played out West,
Where man develops to his best,
And Eastern scouts all watched him;
They trailed him through the month of June,
They said, “Him for the big league soon,”
And finally they cotched him.
Horatio joined a big league team,
Thus gratifying boyhood’s dream,
And got the rooters rooting ”

“ Ay ban a Norsk, yu say. But he ban little faller, Ay tenk 'bout sax years old, And so ay used to lak him— He ban too small to scold. Ay used to say, "Val, Yimmie, Ay ant ban Svede, but yu Can call me Svede,—ay lak yu And ant care vat yu du." By Yeorge! Ay'm glad, ay tal yu, Dat ay ban gude to him, Because one venter morning Ay ant see little Yim. And next day funeral vagon Com driving op to door, And Yim, poor little faller, Can't call me Svede no more!
TILLIE OLSON Little Tillie Olson Ban my little pearl; God ant never making Any nicer girl. Dis har Qveen of Sheba, She ban nice to see ”

“ Vat for should dis spirit of mortal ban proud? Man valk round a minute, and talk purty loud; Den doctor ban coming, and say, "Ay can't save." And man have to tak running yump into grave.
To-day dis har faller ban svelling around, His head ban so light dat his feet ant touch ground. To-morrow he light vith his face in the sand, And hustle lak hal to get gude helping hand.
Ay see lots of fallers who tenk dey ban vise, Yu see dem yureself ef yu open yure eyes; Dey tal 'bout the gold dey skol making some day, And yump ven the vash-voman com for her pay. ”

“ None was stronger and none was gayer—
God help you along your way.
[Pg 13]
THE BALLAD OF THE MINOR LEAGUER He came here in the early Spring with all the tryout mob,
Striving to bat like Wagner and to slide (spikes first) like Cobb.
Some of the vets cried, “Bonehead!” Others remarked, “Poor zob!”
Modest as Spring’s arbutus, calm as an April dawn,
He asked for no advances though his ticker was in pawn;
He learned the law from Jawn McGraw but never called him “Jawn.”
He graced the bench until July, leading the simple life—
He wouldn’t touch a cocktail once to please a schoolmate’s wife ”

“ Not till then will I get busy”—but the contract never came.
Life is but a game of baseball, with its players everywhere;
Some are sulking in their wigwams, some are out to do and dare.
Some are working, working, working, turning labor into fun ”

“ It ban gude many years ago, Ay ant got date yust right. Dar ban some foxy geezers Who march avay from home, And tenk they having qvite gude chance To raise some hal in Rome. Lars Porsena ban starting it,— Ay tenk Lars ban a Svede; He raise 'bout tousand soldiers, And put himself in lead. Then he began tu marching, And all his frends march, tu, Till they skol come almost to Rome, Var dey skol rest a few. Then op spake Maester Horatius, Captain of dis har gate: "To every yackass on dis earth Death coming sune or late. So how can ay die better Than vatching bridge, yu say? ”

“ Them English was game as pebbles, but they broke and then they hid,
Which wouldn’t surprise you much, pal, if you saw Old Katydid.
* * *
“Polo here in the East is fine, where hosses has pedigree,
But Old Katydid was the break-up Kid,” said Phoenix Phil to me.
[Pg 65]
THE LADDIES’ LEAGUE The Grown-up Fan, a wealthy man, sat in his grandstand seat,
Gray hair and worry for his head, gout for his puffy feet.
Watching the New York Giants beat the Cincinnati team,
He closed his eyes an instant and he dreamed a lightning dream. ”

“ And a man can’t always lose.”
The baseball game was over and the home team had been skinned,
[Pg 32] The players slunk across the field while sundry knockers grinned;
They hurried to the clubhouse for a bath and change of garb,
When up spake Manager McDuff, and each word was a barb:
“Fine lot of high-priced athletes! ”

“ By EDWARD MARSHALL and CHARLES T. DAZEY. The story, in competition with nearly 2,000 others, awarded the first prize at the Actors’ Fund Fair. Cloth bound. Illustrated. $1.50.
THE HOUSE ON STILTS
A novel. By R. H. HAZARD. 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50.
BUCKY O’CONNOR
A novel. By WM. M. RAINE, author of “Wyoming,” etc. 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50. ”