It's seven o'clock on a Saturday.
The regular crowd shuffles in.
There's an old man sitting next to me
who remembers when the home team would win.

He says, "Son, can you play me a memory?
I'm not really sure how it goes
but it's sad and it's sweet, and on 33rd Street
it meant victory for the O's:
La, da-da, da-de-da, la-da, la-de-da, da-dum..."

Win us a game, you're the Orioles.
Win us a game tonight.
Well, we're all in the mood for a victory
and you've got us feeling uptight.

Now John on Eutaw Street's a friend of mine.
He gets me Boog's meats for free.
And he's quick with a joke as the pit starts to smoke
but there's someplace that he'd rather be.
He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me,"
with some barbecue sauce on his face.
"Well, I'm sure that I could be a Yankee fan
if I could get out of this place."
La, da-da, da-de-da, la-da, la-de-da, da-dum...

Now, Cal is a legendary shortstop
who's trying to replace Brooks at third.
And Albert's in right, and his burden ain't light.
He just ain't no Frank, that's the word.
And the infielders practice their double plays,
as the pitchers, they slowly get rocked.
Yes, they're sharing a drink they call "losing streak,"
but it's better than punching a clock.

Win us a game, you're the Orioles.
Win us a game tonight.
Well, we're all in the mood for a victory
and you've got us feeling uptight.

It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
and Angelos gives me a smile.
'Cause he knows that he's rich, but it would be a switch
if the home team would win for a while.

And the organ, it sounds like a carnival
and the microphone smells like a beer.
And they sit in their seats, and watch the Orioles get beat
and say, "Ray, what are you doin' here?"
La, da-da, da-de-da, la-da, la-de-da, da-dum...

Win us a game, you're the Orioles.
Win us a game tonight.
Well, we're all in the mood for a victory
and you've got us feeling uptight.