Would the sun be shining oh so bright?
Would bands be playing throughout the night?
Why, there’d be music in laughs and in children’s shouts;
There’d be joy in Mudville had Casey not struck out.

What’s that you say, you can’t quite see it?
Well, come along with me, let’s sit for a bit.
I’ll give us a look; I’ll turn back the clock,
And I guarantee you’ll see Casey a base hit knock.

Picture now, eighteen hundred and eighty-eight
The outlook dim, the game very late.
Mudville’s down four to two, and the crowd is truly blue.
Their team needs a hit; they know too well that’s so true.

With two out and two strikes on the batter
They hope the count this time doesn’t matter.
Casey’s watched two beautiful pitches dart by;
Not sure why himself, around the field he casts an eye.

He sees Flynn standing at third, Blake leading off second,
When the ump says, “Let’s play,” to Casey he beckons,
The tension’s as thick as it was all those years ago,
And our stage is now set, we’re ready to go.

Our guy Casey, his face stern, cold, and full of hate,
Sets to hit as he pounds his bat upon the plate.
The pitcher sets, winds, and delivers quite a throw,
And this time, swinging hard, Casey delivers a mighty blow.

The crack of the bat can be heard for miles.
As the crowd roars, faces full of smiles,
Flynn trots home, while Blake streaks in, too,
And Casey’s running so hard he loses a shoe.

On these days, ages ago, they play without fences
And that can be taxing on outfield defenses.
But on this day, the crowd spills ’round pole to pole
Rightfield to left, there’s a people wall with hardly a hole.

As Casey rounds first, and the ball skips on the grass,
A lady in the wall lifts a foot to let the ball pass.
She puts a hand to her mouth and gazes up at the sky.
What has she just done for the love of her guy?

A fielder nears the rolling ball as Casey hits third,
He can tell the game’s over by the cheering he’s heard.
He scoops it up, and walks back through the gap,
In our girl’s hands, he places that ball with the tip of his cap.

Many a man and child rush from the stands to the plate,
To pat Casey’s back and tell him he’s great.
But standing there tall, peering over them all,
Casey yearns to see that girl with the ball.

When from the distance, their bright eyes meet,
Casey blows her a kiss ever so sweet.
She blushes, spins, and walks straight away
Leaving mighty Casey the glory of the day.

So there you have it, under blue skies above,
Game day in Mudville was all about love,
And every day since it’s been that way, too,
For Casey, his lady, and their town of two thousand two.