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The outlook wasn't looking brilliant for the mudville nine that day: the score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
But flynn preceded casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
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 moutain and recoiled upon the flat, For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
The sneer is gone 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 somewhere children shout, But there is no joy in mudville-mighty Casey has struck out
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