There Is No Joy In Mudville

The boys were down by two

With just two frames to play

And it seemed quite clear

This was not to be their day

One out, then two 

Quickly in the eighth

But Soto drew ball four

And Judge came to the plate 

Clase entered the game

The best against the best

When the soaring ball touched down

It was a tied contest

Next to arrive on the scene

Was Stanton with Samson's strength

The night air quivered and it shook 

At his prodigious homer's length

My team thus led by one

In the ninth it grew to two

Cleveland's goose was cooked

It was a Guardian stew

For our pitcher was a Weaver

Of tales of his great feats

And with two outs in the ninth

The opponents were dead meat

When Thomas hit one off the wall

Noel strode to the bat

No Santa for the Yanks was he

He tied it just like that

And in the tenth, the extra frame

We had a chance to score

But came up empty, so the game

Remained tied as before

In the bottom came the end

Two gone and one aboard

When Mr. Fry's shot pierced the air

And shattered the scoreboard 

There is a game come the morrow

A chance to make things right

But for my Mudville nine this day

There was no joy in sight