[Original lyrics here.]
[Full Poetic Interlude after the jump.]
Holliday in Alameda
So you hit in Coors
For a year or two
And you know how to work four balls
In mile-high air
Hitting yours go far
Bay East your type Beane don't call
Play walkup by Stapp
Or some crap like Jason Mraz
On your thirteen-five salary
Betcha you don't know
Why Oakland hitters feel cold
In their slumps like Craft, Patrol
Its time to play for your next career
Foul yard will not help you here
You'll be on base by yourself, I fear
We'll replace your bat, next year
It's Matt Holliday in Alameda
Hittin's tough here late at night
It's Matt Holliday in Alameda
Don't bother to bring your wife
You're a star hitter with the ash
You want too much cash
You want everyone to try and sign you
Hit better than Swish
So you can get rich
But Billy Beane gets richer off you
Well you'll swing harder
With no one to get your back
For a single run a day
Slave for numbers
'Til the All-Star Break
Then your role is brokered in a trade
Then you can go where games are won
Then you can go where the teams score runs
What we need, bar none
Is a new third baseman
It's Matt Holliday in Alameda
Where people dress in black
Matt Holliday in Alameda
Where you'll take pitches at bat
Ball bat ball bat ball bat ball bat ball bat (etc.)
And it's Matt Holliday in Alameda
Where you'll hit as you're told
Matt Holliday in Alameda
Where our slumps stay icy cold
Bill Beane!
