by Hart Seely
O Captain! my Captain!
Our fearful trip is done,
The ship has sprung a thousand leaks,
The prize we sought is gone.
The end is near, the drums I hear,
The bleachers steadily clearing,
The faithful weep; in sight, a sweep,
Juan Soto disappearing.
But o, Boone! Boone! Boone!
Bring gallon jugs of wine,
For deep on deck my Captain lies,
Struck out, oh for nine.
