by Isa Craig.
Originally published in The Argosy (Strahan & Co.) vol.1 #3 (Feb 1866).
A mad game, my masters!
Played under the moon;
The sun, round and red,
Was bowled over too soon
For the match to be won
In the short afternoon.
A mad game, my masters!
Away the ball spins,
With rushing and shouting
And kicking of shins;
Hard to tell, in the pell-mell,
Who loses, who-wins.
A mad game, my masters!
But all cry "Fair play,"
"Hold hard," and "No tripping,"
In thick of the fray,
And take the kicks kindly
That come in their way.
A mad game, my masters!
The crush is complete;
Each struggles to win,
And, all suffer defeat,
While the ball lies at rest
Within reach of their feet.
A mad game, my masters!
Played over the ice,
Which creaks with each rush,
And may crack in a trice—
Well—life has some games
That are never played twice.
"A mad world, my masters!"
Let's stick, in beginning,
To the rules of the game,
Whether losing or winning;
Fair play, and no malice,
Will keep the ball spinning.