The legend lives on from the toy store on down
of the card show they held at the Hilton.
The flakes, it is said wish some players were dead
so their stuff signed, for much more they're sellin'!

With a load of cardboard with players' pictures he'd hoard
the young Edmund Fitzgerald got on line
to get some autographs from the Hall of Fame staff
of guys like Ernie Banks and Al Kaline!

His cards are his pride and when you walk inside
his apartment, they're spread o'er the carpet.
His Mom shakes her head, and she wishes instead
this was one hobby he'd never started!

Concluding some swaps, they're quite legal, no cops
he trades Ferguson Jenkins for Fred Lynn.
He's offered Jim Rice, he says, "Thank you, that's nice
but I've now got a full set of Boston!"

"Would you take Kevin Brown?" Ed makes grumbling sound
and says, "I wouldn't give jack for that sucker.
Mitch Williams I'd take before accepting that flake.
I'd take Ralph Branca, even Bill Buckner!"

He brings lots of cash, something he likes to flash
thought sometimes it's not enough to handle.
But one day, good luck, he had four thousand bucks.
'Twas enough for a '52 Mantle!

He'd once pulled the trick, got the signature of Mick
and the Say Hey Kid, Willie, on same ball.
And it might be a fluke, but he also got Duke
and with Snider, it sure ain't a lame ball!

One day a guy came from baseball's Hall of Fame
said, "Ed, your stash may be unparalleled."
But he would not donate, he could not separate
the collection of Edmund Fitzgerald!

Does anyone know where the love of the game goes
when he gets Mike Schmidt after five hours?
His priorities mislaid, he knows not how it's played.
Can't explain why Schmidt had home run power!

He don't know why guys might try bunt sacrifice
or the strategy of relief pitching.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the cards he's occasionally switching!

Juan Marichal throws, Harmon Killebrew swings
in an All-Star Game played in his basement.
On Michigan's mound, Mickey Lolich expounds
'cause Ed reached memorabilia show's placement!

And farther below, signed by DiMaggio
it's a photo now worth quite a bundle.
He knew, it's a no, don't ask him 'bout Monroe
or the Clipper will scratch you like Grendel!

In his musty old hall, balls and cards are displayed
far removed from a baseball cathedral.
No church bell chimes, for no wife is inclined
to take wedlock's field with Ed Fitzgerald!

The legend lives on, his priorities all wrong.
In these horsehides and cardboards he's swimmin'.
I wonder, instead, would he be interested
if Topps printed up cards showing women?