There were saddened hearts in
baseball for a week or even
more;
There were muttered oaths and
cursesevery fan was clearly
sore.
"Just think," said one, "how much
we missed with no one up to bat,
And ballparks closed throughout
the land by an owner-player
spat."
But the lane is long, someone has
said, that never turns again,
And Fate, though fickle, often gives
another chance to men.
The players who'd been made to feel
the pain of heroes shunned
At last convinced the owners to
enhance their pension fund.
Oh! somewhere in this favored
world dark clouds may hide the
sun,
And somewhere bands no longer
play and children have no fun;
And somewhere over blighted loves
there hangs...