(to the tune The Boxer)
I am just an old man, with a story often told
How I played upon the green fields
For a glorious few moments, dodging tacklers.
It was the best
Thinking of those youthful moments and attention they bequest.
When I played the frozen tundra I knew nothing but the joy
In the company of linemen,
In the hurry of the huddle, runnin’ audibles
To and fro,
Tossing out the spinning spirals where the wide receivers go
Aiming for those places, only they could go.
Asking only for some changes I went lookin’ for a job.
And I got few offers
Just some comments from the press on what things I should do
I do admit
There were times in my befuddlement,
I sat and took the hit.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Li la li ...
I’m dreaming of my Green Bay clothes, and wishing I was gone, going soon
Where the fickle fans and writers are all needling me, pleading me to go on home.
In the pocket I’m the leader and the protector of my fame.
And I carry those reminders of every blow that knocked me down
Or beat me 'til I cried out in my anger at the game,
"I am leaving, I am staying."
Will this legend I regain?
©2009 Warren Baker