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The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play
And then when Cooney died at first and Barrows did the same
A pall-like 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 Casey could but get a whack at that
We'd put up even money now with Casey at the bat."
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake
And the former was a no-good, while the latter was a fake
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat
But Flynn let drive a single to the wonderment of all
And Blake, the match despised, tore the cover off the ball
And when the dust had lifted and men saw what had occurred
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third
Casey
Sha na na na
Oh Casey
Sha na na na
Casey
Sha na na na
Mighty Casey
Sha na na na
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face
And when responding to cheers he lightly doffed his hat
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey 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 pitcher ground the ball into his hip
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there
Close by sturdy batsmen the ball unheeded sped
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said
Casey
Sha na na na
Oh Casey
Sha na na na
Casey
Sha na na na
Mighty Casey
Sha na na na
From the benches packed with people there went up a muffled roar
Like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore
"Kill him, kill the umpire," someone shouted on the stand
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand
With a smile of noble charity great Casey's visage shone
He stilled the rising tumult, he made the game go on
He signaled to the pitcher and once more the dun sphere flew
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands and echo answered, "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the multitude was awed
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again
The sneer has fled from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate
And now the pitcher holds the ball and now he lets it go
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey'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 little children shout
But there is no joy in Mudville, mighty Casey has struck out
Casey
Sha na na na
Oh Casey
Sha na na na
Casey
Sha na na na
Mighty Casey
Sha na na na
Casey
Sha na na na
Oh Casey
Sha na na na
Casey
Sha na na na