| Lyrics: | by Bob Dylan and Jacques Levy
Lazy stadium night
Catfish on the mound.
"Strike
three," the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish,
million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.
Used to work on Mr.
Finley's farm
But the old man wouldn't pay
So he packed his glove and took his
arm
An' one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw
the ball like Catfish can.
Come up where the Yankees are,
Dress up in a pinstripe
suit,
Smoke a custom-made cigar,
Wear an alligator boot.
Catfish,
million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.
Carolina born and
bred,
Love to hunt the little quail.
Got a hundred-acre spread,
Got some huntin' dogs
for sale.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish
can.
Reggie Jackson at the plate
Seein' nothin' but the curve,
Swing too early
or too late
Got to eat what Catfish serve.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody
can throw the ball like Catfish can.
Even Billy Martin grins
When the Fish is in the
game.
Every season twenty wins
Gonna make the Hall of Fame.
Catfish,
million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can |
