Standard (EADGBE)

This town ain't big This town ain't small It's a little of both they say

Our ball club may be minor-league But at least it's triple A

We sit be-low the Marlboro man Above the right-field wall

We do the wave all by ourselves "Hey Ump, a blind man coulda made that call!"

Chorus

We like our beer as flat as can be We like our dogs with mustard and re-lish

We've got a great pitcher, what's his name Well, we can't even spell it

We don't worry about the pennants much We just like to see the boys hit it deep

There's nothing like the view from the cheap seats

The game was close We call it a win Go off to toast the boys again

That local band is back in town They've got a kind of minor-league sound

They're not that bad They're not that good But all in all, it's under-stood

We want to dance, they want to play We wouldn't have it any other way

Go to chorus, lead, "cheap seats", to third verse

Now the majors call up old what's his name And one more building rises tall

And suddenly we're all grown up And this old town's not quite so small

But I'll always miss the middle-size towns In the middle of the middle West

With no name pitchers and local bands And mustard and relish and all the rest

Go to chorus, "Cheap Seats" "He hits it it's going going going yeah-eah It's

a home run" "Cheap Seats"