Parody Week continues with onenof the longest ines ive ever done. A take on Ernest Thayer classic. Enjoy Dashie To The Plate
Dashie To The Plate - A Parody of Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer
The Outlook wasnโt brilliant for The Poneville 9 that day:
The score stood eight to six, wth but one inning left to play.
And then when Twilly died at first, and Autumn did the same
A stream of silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few stood up to go in deep despair, The rest
Clung to that hope which spring eternal in their own chests.
They thought, if only Dashie could get but a whack at that
Weโd put up even bits right now, with Dashie at the Bat
But Spike preceded Dashie, as did also Missus Cake
And the former was a laylow and the latter was more bake.
So upon the sullen platitude grim melancholy sat.
For there seemed but little chance of Dashieโs getting to the bat.
But Spike let loose a single, to the wonderbolt of all,
And Cake, the much delight-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and ponies saw what had occurred,
There was the Cake safe at second and Spike a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 snoots and more there rose a yak like yell;
It rumbled Crystal Valley, it rattled Flutterโs dell;
It cleared the Smokey Mountain and coiled Appleloosaโs flat,
For Dashie, Mighty Dashie, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Dashieโs manner as she stepped into her place;
There was pride in Dashieโs bearing and a smirk on Dashieโs face.
And when, responding to the cheers, she quickly spun her hat,
No stranger in the crowd dare doubt โtwas Dashie at the bat
Ten Thousand eyes were on her as she rubbed her wings with dirt;
Ten Thousand hooves applauded when she wiped them on her shirt.
Then while the nervous pitcher ground the ball into her hip.
Loyalty gleamed in Dashieโs eye, a smile curled Dashieโs lip.
And now the parchment-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Dashie stood a-watching it, in doughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batter the ball unheeded sped-
โNot my Styleโ, said Dashie. โStrike one,โ The Umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted Gilda on the roof;
And its likely she'd a-killed him had not Dashie raised her hoof.
With a smile of wicked awesomeness great Dashie's visage shone;
She stilled the rising tumult; she bade the game go on;
She signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Dashie still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" screamed the maddened creatures, and echos answered fraud;
But one chillaxed look from Dashie and the audience guffawed.
They saw her face grow stern and warm, they saw her muscles strain,
And they knew that Dashie wouldn't let that ball go by in vain.
The grin is gone from Dashie's snoot, her teeth are clenched in wait;
She pounds with confidence her bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now she lets it go,
And now the air is splintered by the force of Dashie's blow.
Oh, somewhere in Equestria the sun is shining high;
The fans are cheering somewhere, and somewhere doubt does die,
And somewhere mares are laughing, and somewhere fillies shout;
Itโs all right here in Ponyville - Mighty Dashie hit one out!
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