When She and I Played Ball

When Alice was a little girl
And I a little boy,
We didn’t have a lot of things
To play with and enjoy.

She didn’t have a lot of dolls
To clothe, and dress, and feed.
Nor I a lot of shiny toys,
And guns, and books to read.

But in the evening late and cool
When all our chores were done,
We’d get our homemade ball and bat
And have a heap of fun.

The ball was made of rags and strings,
A former pair of socks.
The bat was fashioned from a board
Torn from an apple box.

We had a set of special rules,
Each game we would agree
That home base was the front door step
And first base was the tree.

Another thing both understood
From our unwritten code,
It was an automatic out
To hit across the road.

We had to have some special rules,
The game to regulate,
For she was older by three years
And I was only eight.

One of the rules in every game
(And this is not the worst)
Was never cause for argument,
I always batted first.

The other rule was made by her,
She thought t’would be quite fun
To give me forty outs if I
Would give her only one.

I thought that sounded pretty good,
And stepped up with a shout,
But every time I’d hit the ball
Somehow she’d get me out.

It wasn’t long till all were gone,
I’d never get a hit.
As soon as forty outs were made
I’d get real mad and quit.

She’d pucker up her pretty face,
And pull her pretty hair,
And say, “You cheater, I’ll tell on you.
That’s not the least bit fair.”

I’ve seen a lot of ball games played
In big league and in small,
But never have I had such fun
As when we two played ball.