by the shores of old lake michigan where the hawk wind blows so cold an old cub fan lay dying in his midnight hour that tolled all around 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 and he said it s late it s getting dark in here and i know it s time to go but before i leave the line up 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 he told his friends you know the law of averages says that 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 that s what they did 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 d discovered alcohol gambling dope football hockey lacrosse 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 score cards ready then 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  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 i ll be ready to die then build a big fire on home plate out of your louisville sluggers baseball bats and toss my coffin in and let my ashes blow in a beautiful snow from the prevailing thirty mile an hour southwest wind when my last remains go flying over the left field wall we ll bid the bleacher bums adieu and i will come to my final resting place out on waveland avenue the dying man s friends told him to cut that out they said stop it boy that s an awful shame but he said don t cry we ll meet by and by near that heavenly hall of fame he said i ve got season s tickets to watch the angels now so that s 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 when he said play that lonesome losers tune gosh it s the one i like the best he closed his eyes and he slipped away well mike it was the dying cub fan s last request so here it is 1