• Author: Spider
• Editor: B-2331
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 2
• Page Number:
• Date: 5 14 1913
• Tags:
• poetry
• baseball
• inside joke

? ? ? You great big slob, you can't play ball, You yell and rant from spring to fall; No matter where or when or how You simply bellow like a cow; You stand on first just like a bag And think you're playing a game of tag. A can to you they ought to tie Then you'd have cause to yell and cry. Whenever you make a nice good play, You tell the boys, day after day I am the man that made that play. You bet they I never send me away. You're full of wind and full of cakes And all your noise are big mistakes. We never see you play a game Unless you yell and bust the same. But time will tell with all your noise, That ball ain't played with such a voice; Your yelling then will have an end And you'll be canned, there's where you'll land. — Spider