A drop of sweat ran down his face
as he stared towards home plate.
A single finger, replied his catcher,
let’s seal this batter’s fate.

From a cross-seam grip he hurled the ball,
the crowd stood to their feet.
Swing and a miss, “Strike three!” they yelled
after all, it was TEXAS HEAT.

It was ’65 when the phone did ring
and the Mets gave him a call.
Nolan, they said, we hear you’re good
let’s see you throw the ball.

So off to Greenville he took his stuff
Carolina League, with sky so blue.
By season’s end he had turned some heads
striking out two hundred and seventy two.

In ’69 the sun did shine
upon that New York team.
With Ryan, Seaver and the rest
the Mets did reign supreme.

A World Series crown upon his head
young Nolan was throwin’ smoke.
Notched 29 wins in ‘71
then traded, it was no joke.

Go west young man was what they said
to the California coast.
No fond farewell, no bon voyage
on the plane just tea and toast.

So Ryan joined a team that wore
a halo on their chest.
Started throwin’ hard the first day there
coaches knew he was the best.

Adjusting to the AL’s a snap
as far as he could see.
Grabbed the major league record
for K’s in a year with 383.

Growin’ up in Texas was dear to him
family, friends and farm.
In 1980 the Astros called,
“We’d like to rent your arm.”

A happier camper there never was
a strollin’ down those Houston streets.
Went 11 & 5, ERA 1.69
after all it was TEXAS HEAT.

Nine years he stayed and threw the ball
in the Houston Astrodome
it wasn’t quite right, he felt just then,
so he looked for another home.

Baseball had been good to him,
the first million dollar man.
Seven no-hitters
etched in the record books
autographs for lots of fans.

For the final chapter
a Texas Ranger he did decide
he would surely like to be.
Natural grass and a team that could hit real well
made him think, this sounds good to me.

So 1993 was to be
a fond farewell to all.
To Koufax, Ruth, Cobb and the rest,
“I’ll be seein’ you in the Hall.”