With apologies to the poet......
There was ease in Big Frank's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Frank's bearing and a smile lit Frank's face.
And when responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Big Frank at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded him when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while Jose ground the ball to his hip,
Defiance flashed in Frank's eye, a sneer curled Frank's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air and sped by,
And Frank stood a-watching with his great eye.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped,
"That wasn't a strike" said Frank. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
With a smirk seen from Frank before,
He stepped back in the box;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Frank ignored it and the umpire said "Strike two!"
Fraud! Cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Frank and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, and they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew Frank wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The smirk is gone from Frank's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
Thinking about Kenny Williams and his White Sox fate;
And now Jose holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Big Frank's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured 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 on the Southside-Big Frank has hit it out.
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