A year or two ago, I can still remember how
The Mariners used to make me smile
And I knew I could go to see
Them win a game, or ninety-three
And thought this would continue for a while

But April this year made me vomit
With every game they'd surely bomb it
Four weeks straight of losing
The jeers were not amusing.

I can't remember what I thought
'Bout the season tickets I had bought
But my home team was quite distraught
The year Seattle fried.

So bye bye to a World Series try
Hit a double but the trouble was they caught the pop fly
And good ol' Boone was watching grounders go by,
Singing "It can't get much worse than July,"
"It can't get much worse than July,"

Did you like the game in May
When they chased those Yankees far away
And they beat them six to two
And do you believe that Edgar's bat
Can beat the squad of Yankees flat
And when A-Rod comes to Safeco Field, we boo

Well, I know that there were some good days
'Cause I saw them making double plays
But then they'd blow the chance,
And I dig the groundkeepers' dance

Wooo, we held up banners cheering for Hiram and Buck
While we watched our poor Mariners veterans suck
'Cause we knew they were out of luck
The year Seattle fried.

We started singin'
Bye bye to a World Series try
Hit a double but the trouble was they caught the pop fly
And good ol' Boone was watching grounders go by,
Singing "It can't get much worse than July,"
"It can't get much worse than July,"

Now for ten years they'd been doing great
And winning games at a crazy rate
But that's not how it used to be
When the All-Star game was in the Kingdome
And then Gaylord Perry called it home
When he got his three hundredth victory

And Alvin Davis came to town
While managers were switched around
Soon Edgar was promoted
Junior's fans were devoted

While Jay Buhner's head glowed in the dark
And Randy Johnson's fastball sparked,
The fans sang cheers all through the park
Before Seattle fried.

Now we're singin'
Bye bye to a World Series try
Hit a double but the trouble was they caught the pop fly
And good ol' Boone was watching grounders go by,
Singing "It can't get much worse than July,"
"It can't get much worse than July,"

Sodo Mojo that's the team logo
It's printed over the roster photo
Eight weeks and losing players fast
The lineup started looking strange
As every week we found a new change
With Tacoma's finest joining in the cast

First Garcia went to the White Sox
Olivo joined us in the catcher's box
Aurilia was released
And poor Olerud headed East

The rotation had some mixed success
Bob Madritsch came with much finesse
Do you recall the improved Meche?
At least Seattle tried.

We were all singing
Bye bye to a World Series try
Hit a double but the trouble was they caught the pop fly
And good ol' Boone was watching grounders go by,
Singing "It can't get much worse than July,"
"It can't get much worse than July,"

And there we were all in last place
A team that had no pennant race
With no fans coming to the games
So come on, set a record, Ichiro
Crack bats, and see how fast you go
'Cause someday you'll be in the Hall of Fame

As we watched him at the plate
We stood to see him reach his fate
He hit the ball past third
A roar of cheers were heard

And as his second hit went to the field
He rounded first and then the game did yield
The new hits master had been revealed
To give Seattle pride.

We were singing
Bye bye to a World Series try
Hit a double but the trouble was they caught the pop fly
And good ol' Boone was watching grounders go by,
Singing "It can't get much worse than July,"
"It can't get much worse than July,"

I met a girl who sold the beer
In the stands at Safeco every year
But she just frowned and poured the ale
I went down to the team store
Where I'd bought my M's gear years before
But the man there said the goods were not for sale

And in the stands the children whined
The ushers stood, and the drunks opined
The camera had the plug out
The moose was on the dugout

And the three men giving us advice
Bob Melvin, Paul, and Bryan Price
Are they to blame? Were they too nice
The year Seattle fried?

They were singin'
Bye bye to a World Series try
Hit a double but the trouble was they caught the pop fly
And good ol' Boone was watching grounders go by,
Singing "This'll be our team in '05,"
"This'll be our team in '05."