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LYRICS
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1. CURSE OF THE BILLY GOAT
2. ROBERTO
3. DISCO DEMOLITION
4. THE BELLYACHE HEARD ROUND THE WORLD
5. DEATH ROW ALL-STARS
6. THE MONROVIANS VS. THE KLAN
7. THE GUY WHO CAME UP WITH THE BALL
8. THE PHENOM
9. LETTER TO HARRY
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1. The Curse (Of the Billy Goat)
"Billy Goat" Bill Sianis
Had box seats to game four
Of the '45 World Series
Cubs versus Detroit
One seat he would sit in
The other was for his kid
A goat by the name of Murphy
Who the Cubs had always admitted
That day an usher wouldn't let them
To their box at Wrigley Field
So directly to the owner
PK Wrigley he appealed
The answer came from Wrigley
It was final and succinct
He said there’d been a few complaints
Some people didn’t like the stink
Sianis, he was livid
His face was turning blue
He went out past the turnstiles
Onto Waveland Avenue
The vendors on the sidewalk
Say he raised his arms up first
And with his hands above his head
They say he placed The Curse
Just then a cloud passed over
From the lake a chilly wind
Anybody within earshot
Woulda had goosebumps on their skin
The skeptics say baloney (it’s hoo-ha)
The poets make up verse
60 some years later
They still blame it on the curse
Those two box seats bore witness
As the Tigers took the game
Like they would games five & seven
The Cubbies came up lame
Ol' Billy Goat Sianis
Got the last word, Holy Cow
He telegrammed Mr. Wrigley
Asked him “Who smells now?”
It stared at Leo Durocher
Stared right at his lip
And Leo stood there staring back
With his hands upon his hips
On the top step of the dugout
A cat the color of a hearse
They blew a nine game lead in '69
People say it was The Curse
They were playing for the pennant
In 1984
Against the San Diego Padres
They only had to win one more
To advance to the World Series
But they slipped into reverse
And when Durham flubbed a grounder
People blamed it on the curse
Most recently, 2003
And just five outs away
When a Cubs fan tried to catch a foul
While the ball was still in play
The lockers had been plasticised
But the bubble had just burst
The Marlins drank the champagne
People blamed it on The Curse
Just ask someone in Boston
How long it took to break
The Curse of the Bambino
With its annual heartache
And every time it happens
It just feels that much worse
They say there’s always next year
And that might be The Curse
2. Roberto
Punta Maldonado, off the Puerto Rican coast
People sometimes meet there to offer up a toast
To the greatest baseball player they ever called their own
Who went off on a mission, and never made it home
The earthquake was horrific, the aid was pouring in
Roberto helped to organize a whole planeload to send
The Nicaraguan junta had been looting all it could
He’d fly with it to make sure it got to all the neighborhoods
It wouldn’t pass inspection, the plane that he would hire
The pilot that came with it, his license had expired
A local huckster owned it, he wasn’t sure it flew
He kept that to himself but the paint on it was new
The plane was overloaded, the cargo not secured
Standard operating procedures were totally ignored
The engine didn’t sound right said the people on the ground
When it took off for Managua & tried to circle back around
People still remember where they were that New Year’s Eve
When the word began to spread and hardly anyone believed
Helicopters hovered all throughout the nights
Just above the water sweeping with their lights
They never found Roberto & the search went on for days
Frantically at first and then they found his leather case
No one could bear to call it off and so they carried on
The divers never found him, Roberto, he was gone
Punta Maldonado, off the Puerto Rican coast
People sometimes stand there looking for his ghost
The greatest baseball player they ever called their own
Who went off on a mission, and never made it home
3. Disco Demolition Night
Good riddance to the 70’s when disco was the rage
12” vynyl singles, lip synching from the stage
The White Sox near the cellar, there were mostly empty seats
There was the usual sarcasm from the writers on the beat
The owner of the White Sox was a fellow named Bill Veeck
Master of promotions, things you never would expect
The guy who signed a midget and sent him up to bat
He signed off on an idea even crazier than that
In between games of a twilight doubleheader
A Rock & Roll DJ would blow up disco records
If you brought an LP and dropped it in the crate
Admission would only be 98 cents at the gate
On the busses to the ballpark there weren’t a lot of kids
There weren’t a lot of baseball caps, or a lot baseball mitts
People had been drinking long before they paid their fares
Traffic on the Dan Ryan backed up to O’Hare
Comiskey Park, Chicago, didn’t have as many seats
As was needed to accommodate the thousands in the streets
They started climbing fences, they started climbing poles
They had come to conquer in the name of Rock & Roll
A slight miscalculation, they had underestimated
By just how many people disco was so deeply hated
More police were needed but nobody thought to call
A person on the sidewalk burned a John Travolta doll
It really was a miracle no one was killed or maimed
By disco record frisbees throughout the opening game
Some shattered on the dugout, some knifed into the grass
Some numbskulls roamed around looking to kick somebody’s ass
The White Sox lost the opener whether anyone noticed it or not
There was trouble brewing in the air but all you could smell was pot
The crowd was getting restless for the real show to begin
When the grounds crew came a’ hauling all those disco records in
The jeep the DJ rode in on stopped in centerfield
The driver left the motor running, kept his hands upon the wheel
One foot on the gas pedal, one foot on the brake
Lorelei the supermodel, she just smiled and waved
The crowd was in a frenzy, they were yelling “Disco Sucks!”
It was very nearly rapture when they blew the records up
Sky high went the pieces, some landed in St. Paul
Most people yelled “Whoo-Hoo!” and drank more alcohol
About then a bunch of knuckleheads jumped the right field wall
The jeep got through it just in time before the free for all
There were several thousand of them tearing up the grass
Lighting things on fire, more than half an hour passed
Harry Caray stood at home plate, his face as red as beets
He pleaded through the PA system, “Go back to your seats!”
The crowd began to mimic him with a “Go back to your seats, HEY!”
The couple having sex at 2nd base did not obey
The cops arrived on horseback, encircling the riot
Things calmed down in a hurry, things pretty soon got quiet
The 2nd game was forfeited, the ball field was a wreck
But disco was eradicated partly thanks to Mr. Veeck
Good riddance to the 70’s when disco was the rage
12” vynyl singles, lip synching from the stage
The White Sox near the cellar, there were mostly empty seats There was the usual sarcasm from the writers on the beat
4. The Bellyache Heard Round The World
He showed up for Spring Training
With 40 pounds to lose
He’d spent the winter partying
But that was never news
He wasn’t feeling all that good
Throughout the training camp
The Babe would run a fever
And he often had the cramps
After leaving Florida
On the way back to New York
The Yankees played the Brooklyn Robins
On an exhibition tour
They stopped in Chattanooga
The Babe hit 2 home runs
The next game was in Knoxville
Where he hit another one
The train left the next morning
For Asheville, North Carolina
Going across the mountains
The tracks twisting and winding
The Babe joined in a card game
His cheeks and forehead burned
He really didn’t look so good
His teammates were concerned
At the Asheville station
When the train came to a stop
The Babe stepped onto the platform
Then suddenly he just dropped
They took him to the hotel
And put him into bed
A newspaper in London proclaimed
“The Mighty Babe is Dead!”
“The Mighty Babe is Dead!”
“The Mighty Babe is Dead!”
And before you even knew it
That’s what all the papers said
The team phoned a physician
Who could really only guess
It was his professional opinion
That the Babe just needed rest
He cautioned against travel
Anytime too soon
The Babe departed Asheville
On the following afternoon
Thousands filled Penn Station
To try to catch a glimpse
As they carried him by stretcher
To the waiting ambulance
"Helen, I feel rotten,"
The Babe said to his wife
Before they took him to the hospital
And he went under the knife
(Chorus)
The Yankees tried to manage
All the rumors that would spread
He ate too many hot dogs
Supposedly they said
Some thought it was exhaustion
Some thought it was the flu
Some thought it could be syphillus
But no one really knew
The Babe he would recover
And hit lots more home runs
More than any other
By the time his playing days were done
It’s said he loved his women
And he often stayed out late
And that he liked the taste of liquor
And he did not watch his weight
(Chorus)
5. The Monrovians vs the klan
It was no place for a lady on a Sunday afternoon
In 1925 on the 21st of June
It was a hundred two degrees and even hotter in the stands
The day the all black Monrovians beat the ku klux klan
No strangleholds, no razors, no horsewhips were allowed
They put a couple extra policemen in the crowd
Other violent implements of argument were banned
The day the all black Monrovians beat the ku klux klan
The klan was not too popular in Kansas at the time
They’d already been exposed for their racketeering crimes
In Wichita they didn’t seem to have a lot of fans
The day the all black Monrovians beat the ku klux klan
Only baseball would be on tap at Island Park that day
Said the headline in the Beacon on the morning they would play
They were trying to head off trouble before the game began
The day the all black Monrovians beat the ku klux klan
The umps were Irish Catholic, they favored neither side
Out there on the field the rules were evenly applied
It was a very good game of baseball said the newspaperman
The day the all black Monrovians beat the ku klux klan
It was a see-saw battle, a pitchers duel through four
The Monrovians would break it open, ten to eight the score
And then drive off in jalopies, not those nice sedans
The day the all black Monrovians beat the ku klux klan
6. Death Row All-Stars
Where the Rockies meet the Plains
Towns rose up to meet the trains
Frontier justice handed down
Rawlins was that kind of town
They’d hang somebody now & then
Make some shoes out of their skin
Put them up there on display
Reminding folks crime didn’t pay
Wyoming built a state pen here
For the worst of men to spend their years
Tom Horn had been the last to hang
Before the shortstop Joseph Seng
Now all my teammates, one by one
And each of us a mother’s son
Will follow to the gallows pole
Lord have mercy on my soul
The day that Warden Allston came
He hung a picture he had framed
Of Connie Mack, his eyes ablaze
Sitting with his World Champ A’s
He ordered balls & bats & gloves
To form a prison baseball club
Teams from all across the west
Would testify we were the best
Practice in the prison yard
Concrete diamond, pocked and scarred
I only lived to crush that ball
Somewhere far beyond the walls
To places I won’t ever see
Go on ball, you go for me
Give those lawmen all the drop
Keep on rolling, never stop
On game days homemade banners hung
The streets were full, the bells were rung
The Carbon County Volunteer Band
Played for people in the stands
Dark blue flannels trimmed with white
They fit just fine, baggy or tight
Compared to wearing prison blues
They kept us off the working crews
1911, 1912
Trophies on the warden’s shelf
We went 39 & 6
Against a clock that always ticks
The warden bet on us to win
So did the judge, the two were friends
Our executions would be stayed
Depending on how well we played
Yesterday I struck out twice
Lay all night on a bed of ice
The warden called me in this morn
Asked me for my uniform
Offered me a cigarette
Told me that my date’s been set
Tomorrow, should the sun still rise
I would be the most surprised
This here 5 x 7 cell
At the old Crossbar Hotel
I’ll leave things just the way they are
The photographs, the baseball cards
Whoever has to take them down
There’s one of me out on the mound
Send it to my Mama, please
And say I died from some disease
7. The Guy Who Came Up With The Ball
Flashbulbs were going off
As the batter approached the plate
They had to replace the balls
With ones they could authenticate
Everyone knew it was gone
One swing was all it took
The batter stood and admired it
The pitcher didn’t even look
The guy who came up with the ball
The one on the bottom of the pile
Was missing a couple of teeth
From his million dollar smile
He was sporting two black eyes
He was missing most of an ear
His shirt was torn & tattered
And his hair was soaked with beer
Going, going, gone
Oughtta make a nice souvenir
But you can kiss that baby goodbye
That ball is outta here
Security led him away
They pretty well saved his skin
There was a doctor in the house
Put some stitches in his chin
The ball would pass the test
Under ultraviolet light
There was the asterisk
That was the ball alright
The guy who came up with the ball
Was famous for 3 or 4 days
Everyone wanted a piece of him
Everyone knew his face
Letterman wanted him on
So did Oprah and Conan O’Brien
The White House receptionist phoned to say
The President was on the line
Going, going, gone
Oughtta make a nice souvenir
But you can kiss that baby goodbye
That ball is outta here
The guy who came up with the ball
Heard from the IRS
They wanted their half a million
And not one penny less
“Going once, going twice…
Sold” said the auctioneer
But who can say what it’s worth
Except maybe the price of an ear
The guy who acquired the ball
Couldn’t tell you which was which
A fast ball from a change up
He was just filthy rich
His boy took it to school
His boy won show & tell
But the son of the guy who came up with the ball
Wished his dad didn’t have to sell
Going, going, gone
Should’ve made a nice souvenir
But you can kiss that baby goodbye
That ball is outta here
8. The Phenom
Around the phenom cameras flash
Even when he just plays catch
Way off down the 3rd base line
The fans have things for him to sign
The spotlight follows him around
Same thing in every town
Journalists and tv crews
Articles and interviews
The phenom in his senior year
Not even old enough to drink a beer
Hit 100 on the radar gun
With a change up that was 91
Even then he packed the stands
With as many scouts as there were fans
Every pitch they charted and graphed
He was the first pick of the draft
30 million gauranteed
Whether or not the kid ever succeeds
His teammates draw a grand a month
Sometimes the phenom picks up the tab for lunch
You can’t blame him, it’s not his fault
The team was willing to open the vault
No question that the kid can pitch
Someday he might make all of ‘em rich
The phenom drives a luxury car
Along the road to being a star
There’s a guy in every neighborhood bar
Showing off his elbow scar
He can’t miss say the analysts
No one’s ever seen anything like this
A dieing man made one last wish
It was to live to see the phenom pitch
On this kid they bet the farm
Him and his 24 carat arm
Every hiccup is a cause for alarm
Better not step on the foul line –
Better rub that lucky charm
Sometime around the end of May
They moved him up to Double A
It’s still the same, home or away
Rain or shine, night or day
Every game a sellout crowd
The kid keeps getting batters out
The talk show callers all say so
The phenom’s ready for The Show
9. Letter to Harry
Hey Harry, I thought I might drop you a line
It’s an afternoon game at the Friendly Confines
I’ve got a radio up to my ear
WGN coming in clear
Somebody else now is calling the pitch
Leading the crowd in the seventh inning stretch
Sometimes he even reminds of you
Just the odd moment or two
Every year, Harry, on the day that you died
When the local time is half past five
Wherever they are from coast to coast
To you Harry, Cubs fans will make a toast
They’ll put those funny glasses on
Thanks to you everybody knows the song
“Alright, lemme hear ya, sing it with me…
With a one…a two…a three…”
Take me out to the ballgame, Harry
Take me out to the crowd
I’ll buy the peanuts and crackerjack
Whaddaya say we don’t ever go back?
We’ll just root root root for the Cubbies
If they don’t win, it’s a shame
It’s still one, two, three strikes you’re out
At the old ball game
Harry, since you’ve been gone we’ve let a few slip
World Series tickets yanked from our grip
We’ve thirsted for champagne the other teams sprayed
Cancelled a couple of October parades
That infamous foul ball was blown to shreds
Of horsehide, cork, and a couple of threads
They served the remains in a curse-ending sauce
It still had the taste of that heartbreaking loss
I hate to tell you and you’ll hate to hear
That team from the South Side had one good year
They won a World Series, but what could be worse
The Red Sox have finally conquered their curse
Up north, where it’s winter, there’s less of a sting
When pitchers & catchers show up in the spring
When poets are putting it all into verse
And the Cubs are starting out tied for first
So gimme a blue sky, gimme a breeze
Gimme a brot or a boiger with cheese
You might as well throw in a brew
Harry, I’m hoisting this one for you
The voice on the radio next to my ear
Trying to be heard above all the cheers
It might be…it could be…it is a home run!
Holy cow, Harry, Cubs won! Cubs won!
Take me out to the ballgame, Harry
Take me out to the crowd
I’ll buy the peanuts and crackerjack
Whaddaya say we don’t ever go back?
We’ll just root root root for the Cubbies
If they don’t win, it’s a shame
It’s still one, two, three strikes you’re out
At the old ball game