Denard Span seems a fine young man
Doesn't curse, abuse or litter
And when the Twin City Twins are racking up wins
It all starts with the lead-off hitter
And now a fine young man looks after his clan
And he gets them killer seats by the dug-out
They're having so much fun in the midday sun
But, oh, you gotta be on the lookout
Look out, mom, look out, mom
You better keep your eye on me
But look out, mom, look out, mom
I never want you to be foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality
Because the batted ball hurts even that much worse
Than the one that a pitcher throws
They get sprayed all around at the speed of sound
You never know where it's gonna go
Bob Feller threw a fast one and it got plastered
Like a missile to his mother's eye
Just watching her son play and it was even Mother's Day
It could have been the day that she died
But look out, mom, look out, mom
Don't want another casualty
Look out, mom, look out, mom
I never want you to be foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality
You might be thinking that the game is dull
Then Manny Mota hits a screaming line drive
Catches poor Alan Fish on the skull
He left the stadium alive but he only lived another five days
So let this be a lesson, when the game is progressing
And you're messing around in the stands
And you've had a few beers and you're bending some ears
Maybe talking 'bout your favorite new bands
You've gotta stay on your toes because everybody knows
That the rock can come fast and hard
Better keep your head up, use a mitt or a cup
Or they'll be carrying you out of the yard
So look out, mom, look out, mom
Don't want another casualty
But look out, son, look out, little one
I never want you to be a foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality
Another foul ball fatality

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