A long, long time ago
I can still remember when Met magic used to make me smile.
And I knew back in sixty-nine
the Mets made New York feel so fine
and made us feel so happy for a while.
But June 15, it made me shiver.
For us, Tom would no more deliver.
Bad news on the TV, the trade it was so sleazy.
I can't remember if I cried when I watched the team's regretful slide
but something touched me deep inside
the day the magic died.

So, hey, hey, Mr. William A. Shea
drove my Saturn in a pattern but the pattern was gay
and good ol' boys were drinking caffe latte
singing, "Do you think the Mets can win today?
Do you think the Mets can win today?"

Did you write columns in the Times
about a bunch of players' crimes
if your editor told you so?
And do you believe in Cleon Jones?
Do you feel Met magic in your bones?
And can you do a home run trot real slow?
Well, I know the Mets had a few good tricks
'cause I saw them win in eighty-six!
The ball went through Buckner's shoes
and I dig them orange-and-blues!
I was a lonely teenage Flushing man
with a pink carnation and a minivan
but I knew the s--- had hit the 'FAN
the day the magic died.

I started singing
Hey, hey, Mr. William A. Shea
drove my Saturn in a pattern but the pattern was gay
and good ol' boys were drinking caffe latte
singing, "Do you think the Mets can win today?
Do you think the Mets can win today?"

Now, for fourteen years, we were on our own
playing baseball in the Twilight Zone
but that's not how it used to be.
When Darryl's glory was all ablaze
in a style he borrowed from Willie Mays
and a swing that thrilled all N.Y.C.
Oh, and while the pitching staff broke down
he snorted his chance for another crown
while Carter, Doc and Mex still cashed their humongous checks!
And while pitchers failed to hit the mark
our management was in the dark
and we sang dirges at the park
the day the magic died.

We were singing
Hey, hey, Mr. William A. Shea
drove my Saturn in a pattern but the pattern was gay
and good ol' boys were drinking caffe latte
singing, "Do you think the Mets can win today?
Do you think the Mets can win today?"

Pennant seemed to be out of reach
we played with fireworks and bleach
dignity falling into a grave.
We figured we had to pay a lotta
for guys Leiter and Piazza
but we still can't find a way to beat the Braves.
We closed out nineteen ninety-eight
by losing all of our last five straight
We all got up to dance, but we got kicked in the pants!
And then in ninety-nine the talk
was of Kenny Rogers' bases-loaded walk
the Yanks were still the pride of N'Yawk
the day the magic died.

They were singing
Hey, hey, Mr. William A. Shea
drove my Saturn in a pattern but the pattern was gay
and good ol' boys were drinking caffe latte
singing, "Do you think the Mets can win today?
Do you think the Mets can win today?"

Oh, and there we were, all at Shea
at last a Series of Subway
a great big chance to start again.
So, come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack knows this ain't Wrigley or Candlestick
'cause destiny's the Yankees' only friend.
Oh, and as I watched them cross the plate
my hands were clenched in fists of hate!
No Met fan born in hell could break Joe Torre's spell!
And as they thrust their fists up into the night
to celebrate their title right
I saw Bleacher Creatures laugh with delight
the day the magic died.

They were singing
Hey, hey, Mr. William A. Shea
drove my Saturn in a pattern but the pattern was gay
and good ol' boys were drinking caffe latte
singing, "The Mets don't have a chance to win today!
The Mets don't have a chance to win today!"

I met a girl who'd sit and pout
and I asked, "Who let the doggies out?"
But she just cried and turned away.
I turned on WPIX
to see if they could break the hex
but the men there said the Mets just couldn't play.
And in the streets the children screamed
about the way the Mets got creamed.
But not a word was spoken, their spirits all were broken.
And the three men I'd admired and known
Murphy, Kiner, Gary Cohen
said the Yanks were in New York, all alone
the day the magic died.

And they were singing
Hey, hey, Mr. William A. Shea
drove my Saturn in a pattern but the pattern was gay
and good ol' boys were drinking caffe latte
singing, "The Mets don't have a chance to win today!
The Mets don't have a chance to win today!"

They were singing
Hey, hey, Mr. William A. Shea
drove my Saturn in a pattern but the pattern was gay
and good ol' boys were drinking caffe latte
singing, "The Mets don't have a chance to win today!"