A Dying Cub Fan's Last Request

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, this put this bright blue cap
 From his all-time favorite sport
 Told 'em, "It's late, and it's getting dark in here
 And I know it's 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 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
 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 season's 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"