Текст пісні
He was born in Big Beaver by the borderline
He started playing hockey by the time he was nine
His dad took the hose and froze the backyard
Little Buddy dreamed he was Rocket Richard
He grew up big and he grew up tough
He saw himself scoring for the Wings or Canucks
But he wasn't that good with a puck
Buddy's real talent was beating people up
His heart wasn't in it, but the crowd ate it up
Through Pee Wees and Juniors and Midgets and Mites
He must have racked up more than three hundred fights
'Til a scout from the Flames came down from Saskatoon
Said, "There's always room on our team for a goon
Son, we've always got room for a goon"
There were Swedes to the left of him, Russians to the right
A Czech at the blue line looking for a fight
Brains over brawn, that might work for you
What's a Canadian farm boy to do? (Hit somebody)
What else can a farm boy from Canada do? (Hit somebody)
What's a Canadian farm boy to do? (Hit somebody)
What else can a farm boy from Canada do?
"Hit somebody" was what the crowd roared
When Buddy the goon came over the boards
"Coach," he'd say, "I wanna score goals"
The coach said, "Buddy, remember your role
The fast guys get paid, they shoot and they score
Protect them, Buddy, that's what you're here for"
Protection, it's what you're here for
Protection, it's the stars who score
Protection, go and kick somebody's ass
Protection, don't put the biscuit in the basket, just
"Hit somebody," it rang in his ears
Blood on the ice ran down through the years
The king of the goons with a box for a throne
A thousand stitches and broken bones
He never lost a fight on his icy patrol
But deep inside Buddy only dreamed of a goal
He just wanted one damn goal
There were Swedes at the blue line, Finns at the red
A Russian with a stick heading straight for his head
Brains over brawn, that might work for you