The painter’s brush moves listlessly;
I speak, but he isn’t hearing me:
There’s a radio on in that house, you see,
And the Series is more important.
A roofer’s hammer suspends in air,
And I can tell by the tension there
That he’s at an eastern Ball-park, where
The Series is more important.
A man mixing mortar pauses , too,
And grins, as he yells, “That run makes two ?
The house, you say? We ‘ll get it for you–
But the Series is more important.”
Then, he who didn’t show up at all-To
sit and listen to baseball–
Knows the house was to have been done this fall,
But the Series is more important.
The winter is coming on apace ,
And many an American has no space
To lay his head–but if you’ve a place,
Then the Series is more important.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 15, 1946
