The Frozen Slugger

Lyrics copyright 2002: Fred Wersan

Tune: Frozen Logger


As I sat down one evening

In a sports bar near Fenway

An autograph collector

To me these words did say


I see you are a slugger

And not just some minor league bum,

Cause nobody but a slugger

Has tar stains on his thumb


The Red Sox had a slugger,

Ted Williams was his name

You may have heard about him,

He’s in the Hall of Fame.


Ted Williams was a hitter

There’s none like him today

No matter what kind of pitch you threw,

He’d hit it a mile away.


And when his career was over

It was his final at bat

He hit the ball into the stands

And then he tipped his hat.


He retired down to Florida

Where he told his children three

When I die, please cremate me

And scatter me in the sea.


But when his game was over

With no more Dad to please,

His son sent him off to Alcor

His body for to freeze.


And when the people asked him why

Here’s what he had to say.

Folks can’t get enough of Dad,

We’ll sell his DNA.


They sold his legs for baseball bats

The results they were quite clear

The man who bought them hit

One hundred homers in one year.


They attached his arms to a writing machine

First the left and then the right.

Then set them to signing autographs

Throughout the day and night.


They put his head on a cyborg

And sent him to Hollywood.

They say his acting’s a little bit stiff,

But overall, quite good.


And so we lost our slugger

And to this bar I come

And here I wait for a slugger

With tar stains on his thumbs.