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THE SOUTHPAW
By Roy Merritt

This kid has a helluva arm 
The coach he told the scout
And if we could get him 
to get it over the plate
He'd strike all the batters out
He can throw it really fast 
Over a hundred and twenty per
You might not believe what I'm saying  
But that's the truth dear sir
He doesn't have a curve ball 
No slider or a change up
But if you're standing at the plate 
You better be wearin' a cup
That's our biggest problem with him 
This kid is really wild
And all those who have to face him 
Turn into a little child
And if one comes whistlin' in 
And goes anywhere near their head
They start swingin' at anything 
Facin' him they dread
Now the scout he was a cynic 
The story was always the same
We gotta a pitcher you should see 
He'll make it to the Hall of Fame
And so the southpaw he took the mound 
And started to loosen up a bit
And then he saw the batter in the box 
And this kid was biting his lip
Why is that he wondered 
Why does he look this way
Why is he hesitant to take his cuts 
And put the ball in play
And then the scout he found out why 
And came to believe what the coach had said
Cause the southpaw threw one wild and 
By God knocked off his head
Yes indeed his head came off 
Right there at the plate
I know it's hard to believe 
But that's the truth for goodness sake
And so the ump he followed it 
As it rolled all over the ground
The stadium stood deadly silent 
You couldn't hear a sound
And finally at last the head stop rolling 
And the ump picked it up you know
And so held it aloft 
He really was a pro
He held it there eye to eye 
Lookin' it square in the face
And shouted aloud “You been walked 
Now batter take your base!”

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