King of the Crosswords

Well he never could pitch, pass a ball or punt
In fact he found the very notion absurd
But he knew every middle name of the presidents
He was king of the crosswords

Give him that pen and the New York Times
And his hands would start movin' in a blur
Even without a dictionary he'd be done in five
He's the king of the crosswords

We'll never know the champion's lonely life
Those puzzles in his mind, those words he memorized
And if there's a God I hope he understands
It's hard to be a man with such a brilliant mind

He won the regional title at the age of 12
Went to Boston for the nationals, too
Then he was flying off to London for the Daily Mail
Number ten down was Waterloo

It wasn't long before the agents of the OSS
Came chasing down the rumors they'd heard
They got him cracking codes and spying on the communists King of the crosswords

We'll never know the champion's sacrifice
Helsinki hotel nights, hopped up on Swedish wine
And if there's a God I hope he understands
It's hard to be a man with such a brilliant mind

Today I bought a cup of coffee at D'Angeline's
Grabbed a paper down the Bowery and Third
And the lead obituary in the New York Times
Read "The King of the Crosswords"
You see I never could pitch, pass a ball or punt
The pen and paper was my method preferred
But now I got some inspiration and a song unsung
from the king of the crosswords