Batter Up

Batter Up

"A theme song for every team in the big-time circuit—a musical hit for your favorite club."

The “A’s” Are the Craze (Philidelphia Athletics)
The “A’s” are all the craze of the fans in Philadelphia,
The “A’s” know the plays
To use in the beginning
And lead through ev’ry inning.
They may fall behind, but always come back,
For they’re inspired by Connie Mack.
So, go out on yoru baseball days
And root, root, root for the “A’s”

Cheer for the Cubs (Chicago Cubs)
Cheer for the Cubs
And we’ll make the rival players look like dubs;
Cheer for the Cubs
And the Windy City will be sitting pretty.
When we pitch the “ump” will shout,
“one, two , three: you’re out!”
Tell our foes they’ll have to be umpon their toes
When they meet the Cubs.

Here Come the Yanks (New York Yankees)
Here come the Yanks
Just as powerful as army tanks;
With their murderer’s row just watch them go,
There isn’t any doubt that they’re the hit of the show.
Oh! Here come the yanks
And soon the battle will be won;
Clear the bases,
They’re going places,
Oh! The Yanks are coming on the run.

It’s Detroit (Detroit Tigers)
When it comes to playing ball,
What’s the greatest team of all?
It’s Detroit! It’s Detroit!
Who always sets the pacec
When they come around the base?
It’s Detroit! It’s Detroit!
And long before the seventh inning stretch
You can hear the opponents holler:
“Hold that Tiger!”
No rooter has to wait
To watch ‘em cross the plate,
That’s Detroit! That’s Detroit!

It’s in the Cards (St. Louis Cardinals)
The Saint Louis Cardinals are out to get their men
With a ball and a bat and the power,
The Saint Louis Cardinals will be on top again,
They’re the team of the day and the hour.
The members come from standlots and crowded back yards,
But we’ve got what it takes to win,
For it’s in the cards.
So, stick with the Cardinals when they go out to play
With a ball and a bat and a team.

The Indian Song (Cleveland Indians)
The Cleveland Indians are out on the war path
With bats that are going to be felt,
The Cleveland Indians are out on the war path
For scalps sto hang from their belt.
Beware, American Leaguers, for this redskin nation,
Take care, you’d better avoid the Cleveland reservation,
Because the Indians are out on the warpath,
So, paleface, you’d better stay at home.

The Pirates Are On Your Trail (Pittsburgh Pirates)

Hoist your anchor, set your sail,
For here come the Pirates on yoru trail.
Better hurry to save your ears,
For here come the Pittsburh Buccaneers.
Better duck when their swingin’ ommences
For they’ll hit the balls over all the fences,
So, get ready, be on your way,
For the Pirates are in town today.

Root for the Boston Red Sox
Root for the Boston Red Sox,
A team that deserves to be on top;
Root for the Boston Red Sox,
A team that is difficult to stop.
You will find the pennant at the end of the race
With the Boston Red Sox, for here is its place.
So root for the Boston Red Sox
When the “ump” yells “Play ball.”

The St. Louis Browns
Get behind the Saint Lousis Browns
And we’ll never sing the Saint Louis Blues;
Get behind the Saint Louis Browns
And the pennant race is one we can’t lose,
And when the world’s series iss over
The word will spread through villages and towns
That the season is done
And the best team won,
The Saint Louis Browns.

There’s Gold in Them Phils (Philadelphia Phillies)
Down in Quaker Town
There’ sa team that’s called the Phillies;
Known fro mcoast to coast
By ev’ryone, including the hillbillies
It can really hit
With a wallop that kills;
It’s the club to get when you make your bet,
For there’s gold in them there Phils.

Victory for the Bees (Boston Bees)
The Boston Bees are out to win the fray,
The Boston Bees are bound to win today;
There’ll be no cause to fear
If we help things along with a rousing cheer.
Our worthy foes will take it on the chin,
We’ll win as easy as we please;
Then it will be a victory
For the Boston Bees.

The White Sox are Coming Home (Chicago White Sox)
If you get behind the White Sox
Then you’ll be behind the right Sox,
And you’ll never be mistaken
For the White Sox are bringing home the bacon.
Put your money on the White Sox
Wherever you may roam.
Pass the word we’re rounding “third,”
The White Sox are coming “home.”

Watch the Senators (Washington Senators)
Watch the Seantors
As they go climbin’ up the baseball diamond;
Watch the Seantors
Make that ninth inning stand with pennant in hand.
They come from the capitol and they are supreme,
But that stands to reason, they’re a capital team.
Watch the Senators
As they come sliding home.

We’re the Boys from Brooklyn (Brooklyn Dodgers)
We’re the boys from Brooklyn,
The Flatbush Brigade;
We’re the boys from Brooklyn,
Where baseball men are made.
We can face a rival pitcher
With whatever he may yield,
‘Cause we’re the boys from Brooklyn,
The team from Ebbetts Field.

You Can’t Go Wrong (New York Giants)
You can’t go wrong if you’ll just string along
With the New York Giants.
Theyr’e bound to win, just watch the runs come in
For the New York Giants.
When the av’rages are reckoned
Will they be in second?
No! they’ll be on top for no one’s going to stop
The New York Giants.

C-I-N-C-I-N-N-A-T-I (Cincinnati Reds)
CINCINNATI;
That spells Cincinnati,
The team that’s riding high.
Where’s the creaem of any team
That ever caught a “flyr”
CINCINATTI

Additional verses (written by Edward Machugh Jr of Boston)
Boston:
When a fellow takes his girlie, to the game he gets there early,
And sits her nice nad comfy in the stand;
Then she starts in asking question, after question, his digestion
Makes him jump and squirm about to beat the band;
When a foul tip lands right plump into her lap:
And she cries, “Oh, you jake Stahl! Can I really keep this ball?”
And te players laugh and each one tips his cap.

Boston:
Now the Red Sox look like winenrs, they don’t play like New Beginners,
Their Western trip was marked with great success;
With our star, the great Tris speaker, big Jake Stahl, the pennant-seeker,
They play the game with wonderful finesse,
And the fielder, Harry Hooper, Heinie Wagner needs to tutor,
Joe Wood, and Yerkes, Carrigon O’Brien,
Lewis, Bradley, Gardner, Hall—all were born to play baseball—
Tip your lids to Garland Stahl he’s doing fine.

Boston:
Boston’s proud of her great players
Not a man of whom e’er cares
Whether right or southpaw twirlers fill the box;
They can hit them out or bunt them,
They can make the fielers hunt them
They’re the King sof Diamond Stars, our own Red Sox!
Get a line on Nunamaker, Martin Krug is sure no faker,
Hugh Bedient, Clyde Engel, Collins, Ball,
Cady, Henrickson and pape, doped as winners at he tape,
Will they cross bats with the Giants in the Fall?

Chicago:
When Chicago gets agoing,
You’ll not hear the White Sox crowing
The “Hitless Wonders” play the game for keeps,
Big Ed Walsh’s good arm flinging
High balls, slow ones, swift ones, singing
By the batter when he hits the air, then weeps
Jimmie Callahan’s not boasting, Nor his players needless roasting,
But urges Lange and Peters pitch their best;
Rath and Collins, harry Lord,
Play like demons in accord,
So do Weaver, Mattick, Bodie and the rest

To the Reporters:
There’ sa scribe in Boston City,
Kindly, able, genial, witty,
He’ll talk of baseball lfar into the dawn;
He’s the one who gives the write-up,
Every player’s face will light up
When he reads his baseball column in the morn;
Give your thanks, oh, all ye players,
To Murname in big thick layers,
Paul Shannon, Harry Illsley, Nickerson,
Ralph McMillan, Murdoch, Barrett,
Send them round a case of claret,
They’re the workers while the patrons have the fun

New York:
Let us toast our New York “Comers,”
All are wonders: they are hummers,
At “Hit and run” the rooters roaring rings,
Look at Wiltz and Ames and Crandall,
Shoot the ball close to the handle
Of the bat opposing player madly swings;
Oh! And Marquard he’s a trump card,
They’re as soft for him as leaf lard,
With Snodgrass, Becker, Murray, Merkle, all
Playing snappy class yball, with the infield one stone wall,
Will we find them real World’s Champions in the Fall?

New York:
Here the Giants hurl defiance,
They’re the real thing, they’re the clients
Of the fans who always give them one glad hand;
Those New Yorkers they are corkers,
They are players, not mere talkers,
The pennant emblem each man’s out to land,
With McGraw the peerless leader,
“Big Six” Matthewson, the heaver,
Of ins and outs and drops and swift ones too,
Larry Doyle, the man who’ll spoil
All the hopes of batsmen’ss toil,
How he wings the ball to Indina Myers true;

New York:
Just a word to Jarry Stevens
He’s a sprot at odds and evens,
The idol of the grown-ups and the young;
He will qunch you when you’re thirsting,
Swell your stomach till you’re bursting,
With measures large, you sure are never strung—
Hands you peanuts by the millions,
Chicken legs or turkey pinions
And popcorn, chewing gum and ginger ale,
Long cigars or cigarettes for the guys and their soubrettes,
Even Fizz, and Rickeys Rye or Bass’s ale.

Washington:
How the Senators are speeding,
By the Gods! They’ll soon be leading
In the race for pennant honors and for fame;
Washington’s a classy city,
And to lose ‘twould be a pity
For the patrons loyal well attend the game;
Give me Groom and Cashion pitching,
Walter Johnson—he’s bewitching,
With Moeller, Shanks and Milan in the field;
Morgan, Shaefer on the bases—
Gandil, too, the ball he laces,
And McBride and Ainsmith mighty bats do wield.

Philadelphia:
Keey yours eye peeled on the Mackmen,
No denying they are crack men,
From Big Chief, Bender down to Brisco Lord;
Picture Collins, second bagger,
“Home Run” Baker makes them stagger,
When he send sthe leather fairly to the board;
Look at Egan, Strunk and Barry,
Every squeeze play safely carry,
The wonder, Eddie Plank, his swift ones send;
Then with Oldring in left field,
And McInnes, you must yeidl,
The “Macks” are always dangerous to the end.

Detroit:
Here’s a toss to Hughey Jennings,
He’s a scream in extra innings,
The pride of Tigers’ lair in Michigan;
See Ty Cobb, the cracker jacker,
Slide beneath the second jacker,
Slip to third, and speed for home and cross the pan:
Watch him bang the ball to centre,
Where the kids all try to enter,
The Stands and Bleachers split the air with cheers;
Crawford slams one out to right,
Bush’s “homer” wins the fight,
Detroit fondom celebrates with long cold beers.

Cubs:
Hold your bets, the Cubs are trailing,
New York Giants faces paling,
When they see the Bear still “coming” close behind:
Don’t forget that Shortstop Tinker
Is a mighty rapid thinker
And Zimmerman, the greatest ever signed:
Give me Schulte in tightest places,
Johnnie Evers, how he raises,
At the crack of bat against the leather sphere:
There is Shockard, Saler, Leach,
You can bet each one’s a peach,
Needham, Richie, Archer, Brown without a peer.

Moe Jaffe

1939