The Season On

THE SEASON ON.

THE day so long awaited

Has rolled around at last,

And cranks and fans and rooters

Again are breathing fast,

For on the baseball diamond

Again the heroes pose,

Each thrilling with excitement

From head down to his toes.

The grand stand's overflowing,

And packed are bleachers, too; ,

Through knotholes in the fences

The peepers take a view.

On nearby poles and houses

The nervy urchins roost,

And every one is ready

To give.the game a boost.

Soon forward comes the umpire,

The chap who knows it all;

Around he proudly glances,

And then he yells, "Play ball!"

The pitcher gets in action,

A white sphere cleaves the air,

And then the baseball season

Is opened up for fair.

The subsequent proceedings

Are very much the same

As those so often witnessed

In playing of the game.

The cranks again go crazy

O'er unexpected feats,

And rooters in their frenzy

Tear up the bleacher seats.

There's sprinting round the bases

While watching thousands cheer,

And when there comes a homer

They wreck the atmosphere.

At times a raw decision

Makes trouble in the game,

And "Kill dat rotten empire!"

Wild bleacherites exclaim.

But soon the trouble's ended,

And onward goes the fun,

The rooting and the roasting,

Until the game Is done,

And then at every corner.

As In the days of yore,

Comes from the anxious fellows

The question, "What's the score?"

- Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph.