The game we had last Saturday was sure a corking sight; The Yeggmen beat the Grafters, but the Grafters made them fight. McGee, the Grafters' pitcher, had to hide his head in shame-- He tried to bribe the warden, who was umpiring the game. If Saturday's a pleasant day for outside games like ball The Con Men play the Lifers, and we'll be there, one and all. For the finest "inside" baseball I have seen in many a day Is inside the dear old prison, where they like to have me stay. THE DIFFERENCE "It's just this way," said Danny O'Shay, As he whittled a stick and the hours away, "A player can booze for a year or two, The same as me or the same as you. You meet a ball-gamer now and then Who can guzzle more than the most of men. But sooner or later he has to go The way I was chased from the big league show. "The difference, kid," said Danny O'Shay, "Between the hard and the easy way, As far as ball players goes, at least, Is a difference big as the West and East. I played ten years before I was spurned, And this is the lesson your uncle learned: The boozer THINKS he is splitting the wood, The man that is sober KNOWS he's good. "You see," continued Danny O'Shay, "A dog and a man must have his day. I played like a demon for seven years, 'Till I switched to whiskey and quit my beers. I laughed at the friends that steered me right, But here's the difference, black and white: The boozer THINKS he is splitting the wood, The man that is sober KNOWS he's good." CRICKET AND BASEBALL The cricket game was over and the sun was sinking low, The players in their blazers plodded homeward in a row. They stopped within the clubhouse for a final cup of tea, When up spake Captain Edgerton to Bowler Basil Fee: "Jolly well tried, old chap! You lost as the greatest can; But whether you win or whether you lose You're always a gentleman. Have a Scotch and soda, old fellow-- It will drive off the blooming blues; Keep up your stride, you jolly well tried, And a man can't always lose." The baseball game was over and the home team had been skinned, The players slunk across the field while sundry knockers grinned; They hurried to the clubhouse for a bath and change of garb, When up spake Manager McDuff, and each word was a barb: "Fine lot of high-priced athletes! Most of you ain't alive! I could pick a team from the Soldiers' Home And beat you four out of five. Be out here at ten to-morrow-- That goes the way that it lays; Any mixed-ale sport that doesn't report Will squat on the bench ten days!" THE LEAGUE OF LONG AGO