By the shores of old Lake Michigan Where the hawk wind blows so cold An old Cub fan lay dying In his midnight hour, the toll Around his bed, his friends had all gathered They knew his time was short On his head, they put this bright blue cap From his all-time favorite sport He told 'em, "It's late, and it's getting dark in here And I know it's to time to go But before I leave the lineup Boys, there's just one thing that 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" He 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 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 'Till 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 scorecards ready Then I'll read you my last request" He said, "Give me a doubleheader 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 groundskeepers clear my path Have the umpires bark me out at every base In all their holy wrath "It's a beautiful day for a funeral Hey, Ernie, let's play two Somebody go get Jack Brick-house 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 Slugger baseball bats And toss my coffin in Let my ashes blow in a beautiful snow From the prevailing thirty-mile-an-hour southwest wind "And when my last remains go flying over the left field wall We'll 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" and "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 seasons tickets to watch the angels now So it's just what I'm gonna do" He said, "But you the living, you're stuck here with the Cubs So it's me who feels sorry for you" And he said, "Oh, play, play that 'Lonesome Losers' tune That's the one I like the best" Closed his eyes and slipped away Well, Scotty, it was the dying Cub fan's last request, so 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"