The Southpaw

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!”