Bottom of the ninth
The home team is down
The bases are full
No man has a frown
The Big Man is up
Fans cheer all around
With one out to go
Comes deafening sound
The pitcher winds up
And throws from the mound
The Big Man is beaned
And thuds to the ground
Don't worry, he's fine
Though there's not a sound
The coach eyes the bench
One batter is found
A small little man
Meed Marty McGownd
Steps up to the plate
Sweat drips with each pound
He's never been up
The bench he's been bound
All hope rests on him
Lights shine right on down
The pitcher winds up
And throws from the mound
Marty eyes the ball
And swings right around
'Strike one! ' calls the ump
A heart wrenching sound
Again to the plate
Sweat drips with each pound
The pitcher winds up
And throws from the mound
Marty eyes the ball
And swings right around
'Strike two! ' calls the ump
A heart wrenching sound
Once more to the plate
Steps Marty McGownd
The pitcher winds up
And throws from the mound
Marty eyes the ball
And swings right around
The bat makes a 'CRACK! '
A wonderful sound
The first sign of life
From the Junk Yard Hounds
The runners are off
The bases they round
The crowd cheers much more
With each quick foot's pound
Out in the outfield
The ball hits the ground
The pitcher stares on
From top the dirt mound
The score is now tied
The Sharks and the Hounds
Here comes the Big Man
The third base he rounds
A Shark grabs the ball
And hurls it down
On to the home plate
Where Big Man is found
The ball hits the glove
With a thudding pound
He tags the Big Man
Bringing his glove down
The dust clears the air
A wonderful sound
'He's Safe! ' calls the ump
There isn't a frown
Oh my, what a hit
By Marty McGownd
For he's brought the win
To the Junk Yard Hounds
The hero's raised up
There's cheers all around
But all for Big Man
Not Marty McGownd
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem