The Fan
Harry Carey was so merry, out in the park so green...
Up in the booth, or on TV, he surely could be seen.
"Play Ball !" was called in the game he loved,
for lo these hundred years...
A friend of the fans, he is sorely missed,
And we've mourned him with our tears.
Redbirds, Athletics, and White Sox all had him for a while...
As the years went past in the games he called, he never lost that smile.
He was seen in parks across the land, as someone we all knew...
But in the end, Chicago was home, where he bled the Cubbie blue.
"Hiya Pal !" was the refrain, to all those he would greet...
To kids and fans and Presidents, it didn't matter who he'd meet.
Life to him was in the game, he played it with all his zest,
Now he is only remembered...and numbered among the best.
Nine innings will still be played, as the games of summer begin...
We wishhis voice could still be heard, if only once, again.
When the seventh was his favorite break, and he connected with the common man,
Like him or not we still miss him, the game of life's best fan.
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