A Retelling Of Our Weekend Antics In The Style Of Ernest Thayer’s Famous Poem, “Casey At The Bat”

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the ol’ Blue Grouch that day,
The jukebox sang a mournful tune, with more ballads left to play.
So when Nickelback sang “Rock Star”, and some began to slouch,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the Grouch.

But then back door opened, to the wonderment of all,
And from the cold stepped Talon Holmes, a drummer he was called.
And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred,
There was Robert, Aaron and Albert, warming up without a word.

Then from five thousand throats and more, there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled down to Charlie Parker’s, it rattled down to Del’s;
It pounded on the overpass and shook the walls of Darcy’s Pint,
For Katey, mighty Katey, was advancing to the mic.

There was ease in Katey’s manner as she stepped into her place;
There was pride in Katey’s bearing and a smile lit Katey’s face.
And so responding to the cheers, she stepped into the light,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ‘twas Katey at the mic.

Ten thousand eyes were on her, as she stomped the floor to dirt
Five thousand fans applauded, her Wonder Woman shirt.
As the lights were lowered, and Talon played the click
Defiance flashed in Katey’s eye, a sneer curled Katey’s lip.

And now the mash-ups and medleys, came hurtling through the air,
And Katey grabbed a hula, in haughty grandeur there.
The dance floor called to Albert, his moonwalk knocked ‘em dead.
“That ain’t my style,” said Katey. “Next song!” the bass player said.

From the barstools filled with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a Lake Springfield’s distant shores;
“One more! One more song!” shouted someone in the room;
And it’s likely they’d have rioted, had the band run out of tunes.

With a smile of Christian charity, great Katey’s visage shone;
She stilled the rising tumult; she bade the show go on;
And signaling to Robert, they played in four-four time;
That old Neil Diamond sing along, known as “Sweet Car-oline.”

The crowd is pleased, they fill the room, with laughter and with song.
They pound with cruel violence, the air and sing along;
And now the end has finally come, and now it’s time to go,
And now the cold air rushes in and brings with it the snow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
A band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Springfield—mighty Fun DMC has loaded out.