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