Just Folks

When Father Played Baseball

          The smell of arnica is strong,
            And mother's time is spent
          In rubbing father's arms and back
            With burning liniment.
          The house is like a druggist's shop;
            Strong odors fill the hall,
          And day and night we hear him groan,
            Since father played baseball.

          He's forty past, but he declared
            That he was young as ever;
          And in his youth, he said, he was
            A baseball player clever.
          So when the business men arranged
            A game, they came to call
          On dad and asked him if he thought
            That he could play baseball.

          "I haven't played in fifteen years,"
            Said father, "but I know
          That I can stop the grounders hot,
            And I can make the throw.
          I used to play a corking game;
            The curves, I know them all;
          And you can count on me, you bet,
            To join your game of ball."

          On Saturday the game was played,
            And all of us were there;
          Dad borrowed an old uniform,
            That Casey used to wear.
          He paid three dollars for a glove,
            Wore spikes to save a fall
          He had the make-up on all right,
            When father played baseball.

          At second base they stationed him;
            A liner came his way;
          Dad tried to stop it with his knee,
            And missed a double play.
          He threw into the bleachers twice,
            He let a pop fly fall;
          Oh, we were all ashamed of him,
            When father played baseball.

          He tried to run, but tripped and fell,
            He tried to take a throw;
          It put three fingers out of joint,
            And father let it go.
          He stopped a grounder with his face;
            Was spiked, nor was that all;
          It looked to us like suicide,
            When father played baseball.

          At last he limped away, and now
            He suffers in disgrace;
          His arms are bathed in liniment;
            Court plaster hides his face.
          He says his back is breaking, and
            His legs won't move at all;
          It made a wreck of father when
            He tried to play baseball.

          The smell of arnica abounds;
            He hobbles with a cane;
          A row of blisters mar his hands;
            He is in constant pain.
          But lame and weak as father is,
            He swears he'll lick us all
          If we dare even speak about
            The day he played baseball.