Casey IS The Bat

A parody of Ernest Lawrence Thayer’s ‘Casey at the Bat’

The Mudville 8 were out of luck, for Richard Sprat was hurt.

He broke his ankle sliding poorly into home base dirt.

Without a team of nine the Mudville brave, a forfeit faced.

The crowd of thirteen hundred wore their colors with disgrace.

But on the board an unfamiliar name replaced ol’ Sprat,

A ‘Casey Wood’ was playing third and he was next to bat!

The fans all stood and craned their necks to see this Casey boy,

And when they got a look of him they roared unbridled joy.

They didn’t roar because he was a man of strength or good,

For Casey wasn’t man; he was a goddamn piece of wood.

The other team protested, but their anger was in vain.

There were no rules against a baseball bat playing the game.

Casey stood but three feet tall; he was a rod of oak,

He had a pair of googly eyes in some attempt at joke.

The ball boy propped our Casey up, the umpire signaled ‘start’,

The pitcher threw a heater and the first strike was a dart.

The bat was unconcerned, he showed no signs of shame or fear,

The crowd was loud and cheered him on, but Casey had no ears.

The second pitch was called strike two, and they began the cry,

A glorious Mudville chant, ‘C’mon now Casey, hit it high!’

And as pitch three came to the plate the wind knocked Casey down.

The deed was done, the bat was out, the hero of the town.

The crowd came to their senses and they murmured in dismay,

‘I can’t believe we thought a fucking bat would save the day.’