And they all wear Dodger Blue,
Their pedigree is rich in champs,
And clowns and losers too.
They stand astride our civic pride,Protecting hallowed ground,
From Padres wearing camouflage,
Or Giants prowling ‘round.
So take me out to the ballgame,Where true hearts beat as one,
To the dazzling dance of a double play,
Or a stolen base undone.
I’ll root, root, root for the Dodgers,In the storied old tradition,
And never mind they’re hitting like bums,
With runners in scoring position.
Oh, baseball’s a tricky and fickle sport,And I always try to remember,
That June’s fly ball that clears the wall,
Is just a long out in September.
When shadows grow long and standings look grim,
There’s moments of doubt and fear,
But hope springs eternal, and Baseball’s forever,
So fans say…wait till next year.
I have to believe in the Dodgers,
I know they can still go and get ‘em,
But just about every September,
They break my heart if I let ‘em.