Da Greata Basaball
My 92 year old Dad is in a rehab facility after surgery for a broken hip. I want to do something special to cheer him up when I go visit him tomorrow. I remember as a kid how he used to spend hours reading to my sisters and I. In particular, he read poems out of a collection called This Singing World by Louis Untermeyer. There was one particular poem by T.A. Daly that we really loved. It was Da Greata Basaball, written with a pseudo Italian accent. My Dad doesn't have an Italian bone in his body, but he loved putting on the accent as he read the poem, and my siblings and I loved it.
I've searched online for this poem, but it seems to have vanished from the annals of poetry. And, it is not in the later edition of this collection. So, I dug up the original well-worn book and post the poem here for my own reference and the enjoyment of anyone else who might appreciate it.
DA GREATA BASABALL
by T.A. Daly
O! greata game ees basaball
For yo'nga 'Merican.
But, O! my frand, ees not at all
Da theeng for Dagoman.
O! lees'en, pleas', I tal to you
About wan game we play
W'en grass ees green, an' sky ees blue
An' eet ees holiday.
Spagatti say: "We taka treep
For play da ball, an' see
Wheech side ees ween da champanesheep
For Leetla Eetaly."
So off of Polo Groun' we go
Weeth basaball an' bat,
An' start da greata game, but, O!
Eet ees no feenish yat!
Spolotro ees da boss for side
Dat wait for catch da ball;
Spagatti nine ees first dat tried
For knock eet over wall.
An' so Spagatti com' for bat.
Aha! da greata man!
Da hands he got; so beeg, so fat,
Ees like two bonch banan'!
Spolatro peetch da ball, an' dere
Spagatti's bat ees sweeng,
An' queeck da ball up een da air
Ees fly like annytheeng.
You know een deesa game ees man
Dat's call da "left-fiel'."
Wal, des wan keep peanutta-stan'
An' like for settin' steell.
An' dough dees ball Spagatti heet
Ees pass by hees way,
He don'ta care a leetla beet
Eef eet ees gon' all day.
Da "centra-fielda man" -- you know
Dat's new' to heem -- he call:
"Hi! why you don't jumpa, Joe,
An' run an' gat da ball?"
But Joe he justa seetta steell
Teel ball ees outa sight.
Dees mak' so mad da centra-fiel'
He ees baygeen to fight.
Den com'sa nudder man -- you see,
I don'ta know hees name,
Or how you call dees man, but he
Ees beeg man een da game.
He ees da man dat mak' da rule
For play da gama right,
An' so he go for dose two fool
Out een da fiel' dat fight.
He push da centra-fielda 'way -
An' soocha names he call! -
An' den he grabba Joe an' say:
"Com', run an' gat da ball."
But Joe he growl an' tal heem: "No!
Ees not for me at all.
Spagatti heet da ball, an' so
Spagatti gat da ball!"
O! greata game ees basaball
For yo'nga 'Merican.
But, O! my frand, ees not at all
Da theeng for Dagoman.