Springtime in the History Room
She spoke of Alexander as an eminent commander,
And showed ’em how this gentleman was always on the job;
But freckled Mickie Horner, blinking over in the corner,
Dreamed of Cobb.
She praised the late J. Cæsar as a keen, artistic geezer
Whose performances in most ways deserved a lasting bonus;
But little Tim O’Grady, though his eyes were on the lady,
Thought of Honus.
She lauded Mr. Hannibal, the chocolate-colored cannibal;
But when she asked young Heinie Schmidt who made the Romans dance,
With his brain-wheels on the whir, Heinie, looking up at her,
Answered: “Chance.”
She spoke of Greek and Roman and of horsemen and bowmen,
Of phalanxes and legions in the mediæval game,
Of Goths and Huns and Vandals and such other early scandals
Known to fame.
But young Timothy O’Toole, as he cantered home from school,
Lost but little time forgetting what he termed “a bunch of dubs,”
As he doped the playing science of the Pirates, Sox, and Giants
And the Cubs.