BASE-BALL BALLADS.
My life was one of fiendish, piercing woe,
The roughest on that unkempt plain below;
Aye, to the full I've drunk life's bitter dregs—
Hissed, jeered at, pelted with decrepit eggs.
And to what end I come back in the spring?
Only to hear the anvil chorus ring."
The roughest on that unkempt plain below;
Aye, to the full I've drunk life's bitter dregs—
Hissed, jeered at, pelted with decrepit eggs.
And to what end I come back in the spring?
Only to hear the anvil chorus ring."
L'Envoi.
"Come, enter quick," St. Peter then replied;
"Heaven's joys to such as you are not denied;
Choose any harp among these scenes of mirth.
O HAPLESS SOUL, YOU HAD YOUR HELL ON EARTH!"
"Come, enter quick," St. Peter then replied;
"Heaven's joys to such as you are not denied;
Choose any harp among these scenes of mirth.
O HAPLESS SOUL, YOU HAD YOUR HELL ON EARTH!"
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