MUELLER AT THE BAT

March, 24, 2019 | Mick

[mick]

MUELLER AT THE BAT....(there is no joy in Swampville)

The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Swampville nine that day: The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play. And then when Clapper died at first, and Brennan did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast; They thought, if only Mueller could get but a whack at that - We'd put up even money, now, with Mueller at the bat.

But Jimmy Comey preceded Mueller as did also Rosenstein, And the former was a leaker and the latter was a whine, So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat, For there seemed but little chance of Mueller’s getting to the bat.

But Comey drove a single, to the wonderment of all, And Rosenstein, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball; And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred, There was the Whine a safe at second and the Leaker a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the Congress, it rattled in the dell; It knocked upon the Media and recoiled upon the flat, For Mueller , mighty Mueller , was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Mueller’s manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Mueller’s bearing and a smile on Mueller’s face. And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Mueller at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt; Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. Then while the writhing Trumpster ground the ball into his hip, Defiance gleamed in Mueller’s eye, a sneer curled Mueller’s lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Mueller stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there. Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped- "That ain't my style," said Mueller. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the streets of coastal cities, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore. "Kill him! Kill the Trumpster” shouted someone on the stand; And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Mueller raised his hand.

With a smile of Liberal charity great Mueller’s visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on; He signaled to the Trumpster, and once more the spheroid flew; But Mueller still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Russia” cried the maddened thousands, and the deranged shouted “fraud”; But one scornful look from Mueller and the democrats were awed. They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, And they knew that Mueller wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Mueller’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate; He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate. And now the Trumpster holds the ball, and now he lets it go, And now the air is shattered by the force of Mueller’s blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright; The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout; But there is no joy in Swampville - mighty Mueller has struck out.

Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer ©And

[dp0622]

lol

I still think it was dumped on Friday because it is worthless and damaging to dems. makes them look petty.

Friday is the dumping time for things you want to get as little attention as possible.

[TWhiteBear]

Excellent job, mick!!
Now try something tough like getting paid for good writing.
TWB

[BatGuano]

It is nice to remember just how good that poem is.

Great adjustments to the story, fitting for and to the times.

[lakecumberlandvet]

Outstanding!!!

[pke]

Excellent! Thank you. Will be forwarding!

[mick]

Thank you

[bitt]

p

[FrankR]

[pookie18]

Thanks, FrankR!