The Streets of Vancouver
(tune: "The Streets of Laredo", traditional)

As I walked out in the streets of Vancouver,
Turning from Granville onto Robsonstrasse.
I spied some sad people, all numb with unfeeling,
With feet heavy as lead and eyes dead as glass.

"I see by your jerseys that you are Canucks fans",
They looked at me dully as they heaved heavy sighs.
"Come buy us a few drinks and hear our sad story",
They begged with drawn faces and tears in their eyes.

We went to a bar and I bought them a pitcher,
They poured out their tale as they wept in their beer.
"The team we support always says they’ll do better,
But the promise of greatness is broken each year."

"On paper most seasons, our team’s a contender,
But when they collapse, it’s real hard to believe.
Our coach gets outwitted, our goal-scorers dry up,
Defence turns pucks over, and our goalie’s a sieve."

Outside, the skies opened, the heavens cried with them,
The clouds, like the mood of the city, were grey.
Rain poured into streets like beer into sports fans,
To drown out the heartbreak of this awful day.

"Once every twelve years, we get our wish granted:
To be in the playoffs for more than two weeks."
They sobbed as they spoke this and hid their wet faces,
Like raindrops down windows ran tears down their cheeks.

I paid their bar bill, then I rose and bid farewell,
The fans muttered mantras I barely could hear:
"There’s always next season", "this just makes us stronger",
"The Cup will be ours", "we’ll cheer them next year".

And as I walked back to the streets of Vancouver,
Leaving the fans in their haze of numbed pain,
I knew in my heart that their dreams would be shattered:
Next time would be deja vu all over again.