| Oh, I say D I say D-O,
|
| Team, team, team, team!
|
| Oh!
|
| I say O-M,
|
| Oh really? |
| No, O’Malley!
|
| Sandy Koufax, oh my Drysdale,
|
| Maury Wills, I love you so.
|
| And we defy
|
| Defy the J-I,
|
| J-I-N
|
| J-I-N-T,
|
| The J-I-N-T-S, Gi’nts!
|
| Play ball!
|
| Orlando Cepeda is at bat with the bases jammed.
|
| Orlando Cepeda, with a wham, bam, he hit a grand slam.
|
| In the very first inning, but it’s only the begining,
|
| In the third, like a bird, we get two on, none away.
|
| Then Fairly hits into a double play.
|
| Here comes Big Frank Howard, yessiree,
|
| Boy, what a swing! |
| Strike three.
|
| Oh dem B Oh dem B-U,
|
| Dem bums, dem bums, dem dry bums.
|
| Oh they may be bums, but they’re my bums.
|
| Top of the fourth, say hey Willy Mays
|
| Hits a three bagger down the right field line.
|
| Then he’s out trying to stretch it to a homer,
|
| As Roseborro tags him on the bottom of the spine.
|
| With a crack you can hear
|
| All the way back up to San Francisco, open your hospitals!
|
| Charge!
|
| Inning six, Maury Wills
|
| Draws a walk, in the coach’s box
|
| Leo Dourochure, Leo Dourochure
|
| Starts to wiggle and to twitch.
|
| A signal? |
| No, an itch.
|
| Go Maury, go Maury, go go go!
|
| Maury goes, the catcher throws,
|
| Right from the solar plexus.
|
| At the bag he beats the tag
|
| That mighty little waif,
|
| And umpire Connlin cries, Yer out!
|
| Out? |
| Out???
|
| Down in the dugout Alston glowers,
|
| Up in the booth Vin Scully frowns.
|
| Out in the stands O’Malley grins,
|
| Attendance fifty thousand.
|
| And what does O’Malley do?
|
| Charge!
|
| Bottom of the ninth, four to nuttin',
|
| Last chance, push the button!
|
| Oh we’re pleading, begging, on our knees,
|
| Come on you Flatbush refugees!
|
| Maury Wills at bat, hit it for me once,
|
| Stu Miller throws, Maury bunts.
|
| Cepeda runs to field the ball and Hiller covers first,
|
| Hallah runs to back up Hiller,
|
| Hiller crashes into Miller,
|
| Miller falls, drops the ball, Connlin calls Safe!
|
| Yea, Maury!
|
| Gilliam up, Miller grunts.
|
| Miller throws, Gilliam bunts.
|
| Cepeda runs to field the ball and Hiller covers first,
|
| Hallah runs to back up Hiller,
|
| Hiller crashes into Miller,
|
| Miller falls, drops the ball, Connlin calls Safe!
|
| Yea, Connlin!
|
| Willy Davis gets a hit
|
| And Frankie does the same,
|
| Here comes Mr. Howard
|
| With a chance to win the game.
|
| Hit it once!
|
| Big Frank bunts?!?
|
| Cepeda runs to field the ball and Hiller covers first,
|
| Hallah hollers Hiller,
|
| Hiller hollers Hallah,
|
| Hallah hollers Hiller, points to Miller with his fist,
|
| And that’s the Hiller Miller Holler Hallah-luia Twist!
|
| The Davises score, it’s four to four,
|
| And Howard’s still rounding the bases.
|
| >From second to third, it’s almost absurd,
|
| Amazement on everyone’s faces.
|
| He’s heading for home, he hasn’t a chance,
|
| The poor lad is gonna be dead.
|
| But the ball hits him right in the seat of his pants
|
| And he scores! |
| That’s using your head.
|
| So I say D I say D-O,
|
| The team that’s all heart,
|
| All heart and all thumbs,
|
| They’re my Los Angeles, your Los Angeles,
|
| Our Los Angeles…
|
| Do you really think we’ll win the pennant?
|
| Bums!
|
| Ooh, ooh, ooh dem bums. |