A Dying Cub Fan's Last Request

歌詞

By the shore's of old Lake Michigan Where the "hawk wind" blows so cold An old Cub fan lay dying In his midnight hour that tolled Round his bed, his friends had all gathered They knew his time was short And on his head they put this bright blue cap From his all-time favorite sport He told them, "Its late and its getting dark in here" And I know its time to go But before I leave the line-up Boys, there's just one thing I'd like to know Do they still play the blues in Chicago When baseball season rolls around When the snow melts away, Do the Cubbies still play In their ivy-covered burial ground When I was a boy they were my pride and joy But now they only bring fatigue To the home of the brave The land of the free And the doormat of the National League Told his friends "You know the law of averages says: Anything will happen that can" That's what it says "But the last time the Cubs won a National League pennant Was the year we dropped the bomb on Japan" The Cubs made me a criminal Sent me down a wayward path They stole my youth from me (that's the truth) I'd forsake my teachers To go sit in the bleachers In flagrant truancy And then one thing led to another And soon I'd discovered alcohol, gambling, dope Football, hockey, lacrosse, tennis But what do you expect, When you raise up a young boy's hopes And then just crush 'em like so many paper beer cups. Year after year after year After year, after year, after year, after year, after year 'Til those hopes are just so much popcorn For the pigeons beneath the 'L' tracks to eat He said, "You know I'll never see Wrigley Field, anymore before my eternal rest So if you have your pencils and your score cards ready, And I'll read you my last request He said, "Give me a double header funeral in Wrigley Field On some sunny weekend day (no lights) Have the organ play the "National Anthem" And then a little 'na, na, na, na, hey hey, hey, Goodbye' Make six bullpen pitchers, carry my coffin And six ground keepers clear my path Have the umpires bark me out at every base In all their holy wrath Its a beautiful day for a funeral, Hey Ernie lets play two! Somebody go get Jack Brickhouse to come back, And conduct just one more interview Have the Cubbies run right out into the middle of the field, Have Keith Moreland drop a routine fly Give everybody two bags of peanuts and a frosty malt And I'll be ready to die Build a big fire on home plate out of your Louisville Sluggers baseball bats, And toss my coffin in Let my ashes blow in a beautiful snow From the prevailing 30 mile an hour southwest wind When my last remains go flying over the left-field wall Will bid the bleacher bums adíeu And I will come to my final resting place, out on Waveland Avenue The dying man's friends told him to cut it out They said stop it that's an awful shame He whispered, "Don't Cry, we'll meet by and by near the Heavenly Hall of Fame He said, "I've got season's tickets to watch the Angels now, So its just what I'm going to do He said, "but you the living, you're stuck here with the Cubs, So its me that feels sorry for you!" And he said, "Ahh Play, play that lonesome losers tune, That's the one I like the best" And he closed his eyes, and slipped away What we got is the Dying Cub Fan's Last Request And here it is Do they still play the blues in Chicago When baseball season rolls around When the snow melts away, Do the Cubbies still play In their ivy-covered burial ground When I was a boy they were my pride and joy But now they only bring fatigue To the home of the brave The land of the free And the doormat of the National League