I never got a grip on penmanship Could never make the small "L's" flow Seldom found the trick to arith-a-metic Three plus two be faux, pas But ask for some palm trees Or tales from the South Seas And I just might turn your head I never had the clout to knock one out But hitting was the name of my game Standing on third as the coaches conferred Close to my first claim to fame Just give me the steal sign And I'll make home plate mine And I just might turn some heads Sometimes I may get a little drastic Sometimes I just let my feelin's show Sometimes I may be a bit sarcastic Most times that's the way the story goes Now I know this Joe down in Mexico He went there to work on his tan For years he's been plugged into blenders and songs They call him the Twelve Volt Man He don't need no charge card Just give him a Die Hard And he'll makes sparks fly 'round your head Oh, just ask for some palm trees Or tales from the South Seas And I'll make sparks fly 'round your head 'Round your head, in your head In your head, in your head In your head, in your head In your head, in your head