Mueller at the Bar

A Ballad of the Republic, Sung in the Year 2019

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The outlook wasn't brilliant

            for the Mudville Nine that day;

The score was four to two

            with but one inning left to play.

And so when Comey died at first,

            and Sessions did the same,

A sickly silence fell

            upon observers of the game.

 

A straggling few turned off their sets

            In deep despair; the rest

Clung to the hope which springs eternal

            in the human breast;

They thought, "If only Mueller

            could but get a chance to star,

We'd put up even money now,

            with Mueller at the bar."

 

But Flynn preceded Mueller,

            and did also Mikey Cohen;

And the former was a sell-out,

            and the latter scarcely known;

So upon that stricken multitude

            fell a melancholy noir--

For there seemed but little chance

            of Mueller's getting to the bar.

 

But Flynn let drive a single,

            to the wonderment of all;

And the much-derided Cohen

            tore the cover off the ball;

And when the dust had lifted,

            and they saw what had occurred,

There was Mikey safe at second,

            and Flynn a-hugging third.

 

Then from ten million living rooms

            there rose a lusty cry;

It rumbled through the heavens

            from the satellites on high--

Transmitted by the media,

            reported day and night--

For Mueller, Mighty Mueller,

            was advancing to the fight.

 

There was ease in Mueller's manner

            as he stepped up from the pine;

There was pride in Mueller's bearing

            carved in every weathered line.

And when he showed his craggy face,

            the cheers rang near and far;

Though all the wise would sympathize

            with Mueller at the bar.

 

Ten million eyes were on him

            as he limbered up his swing;

Much mightier than the sword he brought

            the tools of reckoning;

And while all the writhing advocates

            were spinning from the hip,

Assurance gleamed in Mueller's eye,

            a smile graced Mueller's lip.

 

And now a leather-covered brief

            came hurtling through the air,

While Mueller stood a-watching it,

            in haughty grandeur there.

Close by that sturdy barrister

            the brief unheeded sped;

"Not even close," quoth Mueller.

            "Strike One!" the umpire said.

 

 From the couches 'round the nation

            there went up a muffled roar,

Like the pounding of the winter waves

            upon a granite shore.

"Who hired that umpire, anyway?"

            shouted someone from the stand;

And they would have, maybe, killed him--

            had not Mueller raised his hand.

 

With a smile of Christian charity,

            great Mueller's visage shone--

He quelled the insurrection;

            he bade the case go on.

He signaled to the bailiff,

            and the depositions flew;

But he stood there window-shopping

            when the umpire yelled "Strike Two!"

 

"Fraud," cried the maddened millions,

            and the echo answered "Fraud!"

But one scornful look from Mueller,

            and the audience was awed;

They saw his face grow stern and cold,

            they saw his muscles strain;

And they knew that Mueller wouldn't

            let his chance go by again.

 

The smile is gone from Mueller's lip;

            his countenance is grim.

From collusion to obstruction:

            does it all depend on him?

But now the hurler grips the seams

            and now he lets it go,

And all the world is waiting

             for the force of Mueller's blow--

 

Oh, somewhere in some favored land,

             the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere,

            and many hearts are light--

But the rain pours down on a muddy town,

            where they wished they'd built an ark--

For he'd seen no need to be strike-three'd:

            Mighty Mueller has left the park.

 

 

 

-- © http://caseyatthe.blog/  

 March 25, 2019

All Rights Reserved

Richard C. Davis  Image result for twitter symbol @RCollinsDavis @caseyatthe_blog 

3 comments

This is my third or fourth reading of this epic and I still get chills. Well done, Rich.

Dan Johnson May 05, 2019

This is my third or fourth reading of this epic and I still get chills. Well done, Rich.

Dan Johnson April 22, 2019

Well done, Rich!

Arthur Powers March 28, 2019

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