1993 was the year of my debut,
Games I played in were little too few;
The Blue Jays and I won in six,
Thanks to Joe Carter’s walk off shot;
One the Phillies will never fix.

The weather is colder but I’m making half a million,
I speak in an accent that’s not French but Puerto Rican;
I’ve seen Hentgen and Holliday’s heroics on that hill,
I’ve seen Clemens drill back on needles and pills.

I was elected to the team in 2000 and ’03,
I came second in voting for the MVP;
Ricciardi just couldn’t afford to keep me,
I ended up flying down south to Miami.

It’s there that I met Trader Jack McKeon,
And sure enough I had to keep leapin’;
I was traded to the Mets in late November,
My bat and notebook responded as a solid member.

I took the Amazins to the NLCS,
Unfortunately in future seasons we didn’t progress;
I began to fall prone to those old age injuries,
My numbers dropped with me and it became quite eerie.

I’m now a couple shy of 500,
And my age doesn’t show I have much to prove,
Now and then my strength is accused,
I’m not sure if I’ll ever get that Cooperstown news.

Spring Training’s in a Month,
And I’m singing the blues;
It’s 2010,
And I play little too few.