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Base-ball Ballads

by Grantland Rice

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The Goods

Here’s to the guy that delivers the goods—
Gent from the city or geek from the woods;
Hillside or valley, mountain or plain,
Sunshine or shadow or starlight or rain—
Any old time or condition or place;
Taking it easy or rough-house to face,
But putting it over and calling the bluff—
Here’s looking—the guy who delivers the stuff.

Here’s to the guy that delivers—and, say,
Chop out that dope on the luck of the day;
Fate took a wallop and slipped you the quid?
Well, wotthehell do we care if it did?
That ain’t the tip we are looking for here.
Bend down a minute and lend us an ear,
Geek from the brushes or guy from the town:
Did you deliver? or did you fall down?

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