Dying Cub Fan's Last Request (Steve Goodman) (talking blues) 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 the put this bright blue cap From his all-time favorite sport He told them "it's late and its getting dark in here" And I know its time to go But before I leave the line-up There's just one thing I'd like to know (Chorus, sung) 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 (talking blues) Told his friends "You know the law of averages says: Anything will happen that can." That's what it says. "But the year the Cubs last 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 teacher's To go sit in the bleachers In flagrant truancy And then one thing led to another Soon I'd discovered alcohol, gambling, dope Football, hockey, lacrosse, tennis But what do you expect, When you raise up a young boys hope 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 pigeons beneath the "EL" track 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 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, hey hey, hey, Goodbye" Make six bull pen 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 Kieth 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 the beautiful snow From the prevailing 30 mile an hour south west wind When my last remains go flying over the left field wall Will bid the bleacher bums adieu 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, 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 (Chorus, big finish, sung) 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 Copyright Steve Goodman SW APR99
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!