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Poetry & Song A Dying Cub Fan's Last Request written and sung by Steve Goodman
By
the shores of old Lake Michigan Where
the hawk winds blow 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 it’s late and it’s getting dark in here And
I know it’s time to go But
before I leave the line-up 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 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 I’d
forsake my teachers to go sit in the bleachers In
flagrant truancy 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 Anymore
before my eternal rest So
if you have your pencils and your scoreboards ready I’ll
read you my last request Give
me a double header funeral at Wrigley Field On
some sunny week-end day (no lights) Have
the organ play the National Anthem Then
a little na na na na hey hey hey goodbye Make
six bull-pen pitchers carry my coffin Have
six ground keepers 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 Someone
go get Jack Brickhouse to come back And
conduct just one more interview Have
the Cubbies run 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 fire at homeplate out of your Louisville Slugger baseball bats And
toss my coffin in Let
my ashes blow on a beautiful snow From
the prevailing 30mph Southwest winds And
when my last remains go flying over the left field wall I’ll
bid the bleacher bums adieu And
I will come to my final resting place Out
on Waveland Avenue They
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 tickets to watch the Angels now And
that’s just what I’m gonna do But
you the living you’re stuck here with the Cubs So
it’s me that feels sorry for you He
said ah play that lonesome loser tune That’s
the one I like the best Then
he closed his eyes and he slipped away That
was they dying Cub fan’s last request 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
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