butcher boy

Today I stood on a butcher boy. He died. I feel bad.

Bob prick’d his lug and scratch’d his pate / For he was flushed with joy, / To think that he should be revenge’d / Upon the Butcher Boy.

He had clearly become a satyr once again, as evidenced by the rosy-faced butcher-boy that Moore met upon visiting him. The word butcher-boy was, like telegraph-boy, a euphemism for a male prostitute

One of his [Casey Stengel's] more practical creations? The butcher boy, in which a batter would draw the infield in by squaring up to bunt ... only to quickly pull it back and take a short, downward swing at the ball.