NATIONAL POETRY MONTH: April Fool, Ogden Nash, and Baseball
Celebrating the silliness of April Fool, the seriousness of poetry, and the silly seriousness of baseball, I present an Ogden Nash poem on the national pastime.
You Can't Kill an Oriole
Wee Willie Keeler
Runs through the town,
All along Charles Street,
In his nightgown.
Belling like a hound dog,
Gathering the pack:
Hey, Wilbert Robinson,
The Orioles are back!
Hey, Hughie Jennings!
Hey, John McGraw!
I got fire in my eye
And tobacco in my jaw!
Hughie, hold my halo.
I'm sick of being a saint:
Got to teach youngsters
To hit 'em where they ain't.
--Ogden Nash
This entry was originally posted at http://wordweaverlynn.dreamwidth.org/592265.html. Please comment here if you want, or there using OpenID. Or send me a message via carrier pigeon or fortune cookie. I'm dying to hear from you.
You Can't Kill an Oriole
Wee Willie Keeler
Runs through the town,
All along Charles Street,
In his nightgown.
Belling like a hound dog,
Gathering the pack:
Hey, Wilbert Robinson,
The Orioles are back!
Hey, Hughie Jennings!
Hey, John McGraw!
I got fire in my eye
And tobacco in my jaw!
Hughie, hold my halo.
I'm sick of being a saint:
Got to teach youngsters
To hit 'em where they ain't.
--Ogden Nash
This entry was originally posted at http://wordweaverlynn.dreamwidth.org/592265.html. Please comment here if you want, or there using OpenID. Or send me a message via carrier pigeon or fortune cookie. I'm dying to hear from you.
