| Casey at the bat | % Correct |
|---|---|
| And now the pitcher {holds} the ball, and now he lets it go, | 67%
|
| and somewhere men are {laughing}, and somewhere children shout; | 67%
|
| But Flynn {preceded} Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake, | 67%
|
| but there is no {joy} in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out. | 67%
|
| for Casey, {mighty} Casey, was advancing to the bat. | 67%
|
| The {outlook} wasn‘t brilliant for the Mudville Nine that day; | 67%
|
| the score stood {four} {to} {two}, with but one inning more to play. | 67%
|
| and Blake, the much {despised}, tore the cover off the ball; | 50%
|
| and Casey stood a-watching it in {haughty} {grandeur} there. | 50%
|
| and it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey {raised} his hand. | 50%
|
| and now the air is {shattered} by the force of Casey's blow. | 50%
|
| and the former was a {lulu} while the latter was a cake | 50%
|
| And then when Cooney {died} at first and Barrows did the same, | 50%
|
| and they knew that Casey wouldn't let that {ball} go by again. | 50%
|
| but Casey still {ignored} it, and the umpire said: "Strike two." | 50%
|
| clung to that hope which {springs} {eternal} in the human breast; | 50%
|
| for there seemed but {little} {chance} of Casey's getting to the bat. | 50%
|
| he pounds with {cruel} {violence} his bat upon the plate. | 50%
|
| he signaled to the pitcher, and once more the {spheroid} flew; | 50%
|
| it knocked upon the {mountain} and recoiled upon the flat, | 50%
|
| it rumbled through the {valley}, it rattled in the dell; | 50%
|
| "Kill him! Kill the {umpire}!" shouted someone on the stand; | 50%
|
| Oh, somewhere in this {favored} {land} the sun is shining bright; | 50%
|
| {Ten} {thousand} {eyes} were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt; | 50%
|
| "{that} {ain}'{t} {my} {style}" said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said. | 50%
|
| the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere {hearts} are light, | 50%
|
| There was {ease} in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place; | 50%
|
| there was Jimmy {safe} {at} {second} and Flynn a-hugging third. | 50%
|
| The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are {clenched} in hate; | 50%
|
| they thought, if only Casey could get but a {whack} at that - | 50%
|
| With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's {visage} shone; | 50%
|
| And now the {leather}-{covered} {sphere} came hurtling through the air, | 33%
|
| And when, responding to the cheers, he {lightly} {doffed} his hat, | 33%
|
| and when the {dust} {had} {lifted}, and the men saw what had occurred, | 33%
|
| a {sickly} {silence} fell upon the patrons of the game. | 33%
|
| A straggling few got up to go in {deep} {despair}. The rest | 33%
|
| But Flynn {let} {drive} {a} {single}, to the wonderment of all, | 33%
|
| but {one} {scornful} {look} from Casey and the audience was awed. | 33%
|
| Close by the {sturdy} {batsman} the ball unheeded sped— | 33%
|
| defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer {curled} Casey's lip. | 33%
|
| {five} {thousand} {tounges} applauded when he wiped them on his shirt. | 33%
|
| "Fraud!" cried the {maddened} {thousands}, and Echo answered fraud; | 33%
|
| From the {benches}, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, | 33%
|
| he stilled the {rising} {tumult}; he bade the game go on; | 33%
|
| like the {beating} {of} {the} {storm}-{waves} on a stern and distant shore | 33%
|
| no {stranger} {in} {the} {crowd} could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat. | 33%
|
| so upon that {stricken} {multitude} grim melancholy sat, | 33%
|
| Then from {five} {thousand} {throats} and more there rose a lusty yell; | 33%
|
| Then while the {writhing} {pitcher} ground the ball into his hip, | 33%
|
| there was {pride} in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face. | 33%
|
| They‘d put up {even} {money} {now}, with Casey at the bat. | 33%
|
| They saw his face grow {stern} {and} {cold}, they saw his muscles strain, | 33%
|