Lyrics

The Travelin’ Nine -
Music & Words by: Jake Speed

Their bats are splintered. Their hats are torn.
Their uniforms look like they’ve been through war.
Their cleats are beat. Their hair is tossed.
They’re one strike away from totally lost.

But deep down inside there’s a baseball drive that’s do or die.

Chorus:
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” the townsfolk cry.
“Here they come; it’s the Travelin’ Nine.
Rounding the country on a baseball drive.
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” It’s the Travelin’ Nine.

Who’s on First? It’s the old Professor.
He’s got a bad eye, but his good eye’ll get ya.

On the Second base bag with the big mustache,
It’s Tales who wails while everyone bats.

There’s Doc, working on Third, swooping up hits in a fit like a bow-legged bird.

Chorus:
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” the townsfolk cry.
“Here they come; it’s the Travelin’ Nine.
Rounding the country on a baseball drive.
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” It’s the Travelin’ Nine.

There’s Soapbox Stephens cleaning up Short.
He’s double-play trouble - call him “Bubbles” for short.

Scribe is in Center writing letters in his mind.
Got the brain of Mark Twain, but the body of a giant.

Crazy Feet’s a fox in Left, chasing balls, and Woody’s in Right and he can’t go wrong.

Chorus:
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” the townsfolk cry.
“Here they come; it’s the Travelin’ Nine.
Rounding the country on a baseball drive.
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” It’s the Travelin’ Nine.

Bridge:
Happy’s on the mound with his frown in a smile.
He can windmill the pill a mile.
Behind the dish, behind the mask,
It’s Miss Elizabeth, shh, don’t ask.

Every single one of the Travelin’ Nine
Lay it on the line when they hit the diamond.
Every single one of the Travelin’ Nine
Play like today is a do or die.

Chorus:
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” the townsfolk cry.
“Here they come; it’s the Travelin’ Nine.
Rounding the country on a baseball drive.
“Hip, Hip, Huzzah!” It’s the Travelin’ Nine.

Notes:
Players:
Jake Speed – vocals, guitar, washboard, watering can
Justin Todhunter – vocals, mandolin
Chris Werner – upright bass

Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered by: Chris Werner
Recorded at “Go To Your Room Studio” in Northside, Ohio
Copyright2008 Jake Speed


The Travelin’ Nine - D
Intro Verse: Slow and sedated
Their bats are splintered their hats are torn
Their uniforms look like they been through war
Their cleats are beat, their hair is tossed
They’re one strike away from totally lost

(slow crescendo) But deep down inside there’s a baseball drive that’s do or die

Full Volume:
Hip Hip Huzzah the townsfolk cry
Here they come, it’s the Travelin’ Nine
Rounding the country on a baseball drive
Hip Hip Huzzah it’s the Travelin’ Nine

Solo of just chorus

Who’s on First, it’s the old Professor
He’s got a bad eye, but his good eye’ll get ya

On the Second Base bag with the big mustache
It’s Tales who wails while everyone bats

There’s Doc working on Third, swooping up hits in a fit like a bow-legged bird

Chorus:

There’s Soapbox Stephens cleaning up Short
He’s double-play trouble, call him “Bubbles” for short

Scribe is in Center writing letters in his mind
Got the brain of Mark Twain but the body of a Giant

Crazy Feet’s a fox in Left chasing balls, and Woody’s in Right and he can’t go wrong

Happy’s on the mound with his frown in a smile
He can windmill the pill a mile
Behind the dish, behind the mask
It’s Miss Elizabeth, shh, don’t ask

Every single one of the Travelin’ Nine
Lay it on the line when they hit the diamond
Every single one of the Travelin’ Nine
Play like today is a do or die