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Duration:
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Release Date:
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1920 (Oldiesmann)
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Lyrics By:
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Music By:
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Produced By:
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Released By:
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Columbia Records (Oldiesmann)
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Published By:
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Facts: |
Originally issued as Columbia A2907 (backed with "Abe Kabibble Dictates A Letter") in 1920. (Oldiesmann) |
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Song Lyrics: |
Abe Kabibble At The Ballgame lyrics:
Abie at the ballgame. Hooray. Minsk, I don’t care if it is already the sixth inning. We ain’t late and we ain’t missed a thing yet. The score is nothin’ to nothin’. You know we got good seats here in the bleachers. If it rains we’ll be the first ones to know it. ------------------, I know all about the baseball business. I played baseball for two years. But I had to give it up, I lost the ball. --------------------------. No, no mister I don’t want no scorecard. Please don’t bother me. I f**k you up your ass I said I don’t want to buy a scorecard I’m tellin’ ya. I don't care if I don't know the names of the players. I'll call them somethin' else before the game is over. Say Minsk, you are only my partner in the office. If you want to fight with me, wait [vait] 'til we get back to our office. A fine partner you are. Sure, I'll buy a bag of peanuts. Say Minsk, do you want to eat peanuts, too? You don't? You want to watch the game. You eat pretty heavy in card games at my house, alright. Uh huh, I'll ------------------- all of a sudden. Who's pitchin'? Who? Richie Medison. Uh hmmmmm.... He ought to keep it up he'll become a great pitcher someday. He's got talented. What? You say that he has been pitchin' steadily for twenty-five years? Is he that old? Well, in them short pants.... What? What are they wearin'? They look younger to me. I suppose that.... But absolutely, I like the other pitcher much better. You can see that he is a better pitcher. He hits the bat every time. This is Mister Lynch. It must be a very popular name here. Everybody is callin' him by his name. Listen to them holler, "Lynch the umpire." Stop worryin', Minsk, will ya, suppose my lap is full of peanut shells. I'm waitin' for the seventh inning, then they all have to stand up, then they can fall down by themselves. You said before that there were forty thousand people here. I counted so far thirty-two thousand, four hundred, and seventy-eight. But I ain't gonna bother countin' no more, if it's right so far I suppose it will be all-a-right all-a-day. Ah, Pockey Pine, here comes a good batter. But why should he hit it for nothin'? Suppose he makes a good hit, and what's the use? It wouldn't get no base. They're all full. Ooooooooh, ----------------------, what a nifty catch he did that ball. What do you say they call that, a home run? If he ran like that at home the landlord would break his lease in a minute. It's nice of us two partners and give up business in the afternoon to enjoy pleasure here. And, by the way, how much stock have we got? All-a-right, all-a-right, I won't talk business here now. Oy, look on the score now, it’s fifty-two to nothin’. But I ain’t worryin’, the other side ain’t had their inning yet. Me and other people excited now. A good hit now and the score will be tied even again. If it’s even maybe they’ll have to play fifty innings yet. You never have supper at my house ‘til eight o’clock anyhow. Listen, Minsk, what are you worryin’ about? You got the long face on you somethin’ terrible, and it ain’t enjoyin’ the game. What are you worryin’ about? What you say, you left the safe open in the office? Then what are you worryin’ about, ain’t they both here? Let’s move into a better seat, we’re too far away, not one foul ball came this way yet. I can’t come home ‘til I bring my little kidney a ball. Oy, ya f**k. Oy, oy my eye, my eye is out. Who hit me? Was it the ball hit me? Oy, oy put the ball in your pocket, ‘til I holler for damages. And now the game has to get excited, and three men on bases, and Fenske the clubber comes up to the deck. Come on Fenske. What? How much does he get a year? Fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand dollars? Come on right away, Minsk, let’s go home and practice.
Note: ------ (dotted lines) indicates unclear wording.
(rfabian) |
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