Lyrics

i went down to St Luke's colisseum
to smoke me an afternoon chunk
it was down to the very last inning
and the usual crowd was drunk
what be the score i inquired
but that crowd so quickly turned glum
for two batters were retired
and that score was none to none

it looked a sad day for the hometeam
to settle for a tie at best
with only one chance left for victory's dream
the next batter being the last
now some folks would be satisfied
to have a tie on a day like this
with that sun gone down in that blue sky
some would go to their beer in bliss

but the Flukes, the Flukes, that's different
the coach squinted like Woody the Great
and unraveling his gnarled fingers
he sent a pinch hitter up to the plate
the umpire adjusted his spectacles
the crowd gasped as if it were one
it was Mojo the loose joints dealer
who'd been sleeping all day in the sun

Mojo he stepped into that batter's box
he stood there straight as a tower
he looked out through his mirrored sunglasses
that hadn't been looked out through for hours
the pitcher he reared back and fired
down that forty five feet sailed that ball
Mojo he just stood there looking tired
and that umpire said nothin' at all

one two three four five pitches
sailed down cross that forty five feet
Mojo he just hitched his britches
till that count was full and complete
that pitcher he looked in there one time
he gave it his very best case
Mojo just blinked one little eye
"Ball four!" said that ump "To first base"

"Well let him go, let him go, God bless him"
sang that coach down there at the base
and the next batter hit a two bouncer
like a grapefruit that shortstop could taste
but Mojo he's heading for second
he calls out to the shortstop "hey freeze"
and that shortstop looks up for a second
and that grounder skipped right through his knees

he threw down his Bucky Dent model
he let out a hellacious word
something like "fluke" but more frontal
and Mojo starts heading for third
then over there on the side line
a dust cloud came into view
took a right turn at the third base line
and straight on down to home plate it blew

the ball came to a stop in the outfield
you could see all its seams at rest
and Mojo he's a-rounding that corner
he's putting the scoreless tie to its test
outfields converged on that spheroid
the catcher he braced for his due
and into that primeval sandstorm
face first the Mojo man flew

from somewhere the far side of baseball
came the sound of leather on man
both benches emptied in unison
"you're out!" came that voice from the sand
"you're crazy" that coach screamed in anguish
as he tore loose his arm from its cast
but that umpire he'd made his decision
he'd called this ball game over at last

but then Mojo says "Uh, Mr Mr Umpire
now don't you be so quick to quit
before you go calling this game over and tired
how bout a look in that there catcher's mitt?"
"Yeah, let's see that ball" came the cry of the home team
and that catcher he stood there so tall
but soon he was lookin' so sheepish
cause that glove was holdin’ nothin’ at all

well they searched for that ball in the backstop
they inquired of sidewalk passersby
they even searched over in Hoboken
'case it crossed the river on the fly
they put Mojo up on their shoulders
they made him king for a day
they took him to the bar and said "Mojo man
how you make that ball disappear in smoke like a j?"

Mojo he says "boys one thing i found
if you're going to survive in the woods
when the men in blue start sniffing around
best thing to do's to just eat the goods"
then Mojo gets up off his barstool
runs into that porcelain goddess and he pukes
and he coughs up the game ball while the players look on
the astonished St Luke's Flukes

"well i'll be a crazy man" says the coach
"i never seen this in the game plan"
and they went to that scorebook and somebody wrote
hello flounder in the sand
now whenever they talk about baseball
they remember that old catcher's mitt
and they say of old Mojo he's the greatest of all
he's that Fluke that won't never say quit