A solemn Sabbath stillness lies along the Mudville lanes,
Among the crags of Shantytown a peaceful quiet reigns,
For down upon McCarty's dump, in fiery fight for fame,
The Shanties meet the Mudvilles in the final pennant game;
And heedless of the frantic fray, in center field remote,
Behind the biggest ash-heap lies O'Reilly's billy-goat.

The eager crowd bends forward now, in fierce excitement's thrall,
The pitcher writhes in serpent twist, the umpire says, "Play ball!"
The batsman swings with sudden spite,—a loud, resounding "spat,"
And hissing through the ambient air the horse-hide leaves the bat;
With one terrific battle-cry, the "rooter" clears his throat,
But still serene in slumber lies O'Reilly's billy-goat.

Alas, alas for Shantytown! the Mudvilles forge ahead;
Alas for patriotic hopes! the green's below the red;
With one half inning still to play the score is three to two,
The Shantys have a man on base,—be brave my lads, and true;
Bold Captain Muggsy comes to bat, a batsman he of note,
And slowly o'er the ash-heap walks O'Reilly's billy-goat.

The yelling Mudville hosts have wrecked his slumbers so serene,
With deep disgust and sullen eye he gazes o'er the scene.
He notes the center-fielder's garb, the Mudvilles' shirt of red;
He firmly plants his sturdy legs, he bows his horned head,
And, as upon his shaggy ears the Mudville slogan smote,
A sneer played 'mid the whiskers of O'Reilly's billy-goat.

The valiant Muggsy hits the ball. Oh, deep and dark despair!
He hits it hard and straight, but ah, he hits it in the air!
The Mudville center-fielder smiles and reaches forth in glee,
He knows that fly's an easy out for such a man as he.
Beware, oh rash and reckless youth, nor o'er your triumph gloat,
For toward you like a comet flies O'Reilly's billy-goat.

Across the battle-field is borne a dull and muffled sound,
The fielder like a bullock falls, the ball rolls on the ground.
Around the bases on the wing the gallant Muggsy speeds,
And follows swiftly in the track where fast his comrade leads.
And from the field of chaos where the dusty billows float,
With calm, majestic mien there stalks O'Reilly's billy-goat.

Above the crags of Shantytown the flaunting pennant waves,
And cheering myriads chant the praise of Muggsy's lusty braves.
The children shout in gladsome glee, each fair one waves her hand,
As down the street the heroes march with lively German band;
But wilder grows the tumult when, with ribboned horns and coat,
They see, on high in triumph borne, O'Reilly's billy-goat.