December
THE ball and bat are laid away,
The umpire's voice is still ;
The bleacherites no longer bray
O'er diamond bleak and chill.
The pigskin drops disconsolate,
The flying wedge has flown ;
Shorn are the locks that on each pate
Erst formed a hirsute crown.
But lo ! upon the landscape hoar,
A scarlet form appears,
And frequent bellowings of "Fore!"
Assail our frosted ears.
M. W. Pool, in Lyrics of the Links, published in 1921
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