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

He says, "Greg, can you bring us a victory?
I'm old enough to know how it goes.
And it's sad and it's sweet, and this team could compete
when John Bateman wore coaches clothes."

La, da-da, da-de-da, la-da, da-de-da, da-da-da-dum.

Win us a game, you're the Schiano man.
Win us a game or two.
Well, we're all in the mood for a victory
or soon you won't coach at RU.

Now John selling tix is a friend of mine.
He gets me my seats for free.
And he's quick with a joke or some ice for your Coke
but there's someplace that he'd rather be.

He says, "Bill, West Virginia is killing us."
And the smile runs away from his face.
"Well, I"m sure that I coulda gone to Syracuse
but my Dad got me into this place."

La, da-da, da-de-da, la-da, da-de-da, da-da-da-dum.

Now, Paul is the head of the booster club
which never impresses his wife.
And he's talking with Sammy, who roots for Miami
and probably will do so for life.

And the quarterback's practicing getting sacked
'cause the linemen can't turn on a dime.
Yes, they're sharing a drink called "Virginia Tech"
'cause Schiano was wrong, it ain't time.

Win us a game, you're the Schiano man.
Win us a game or two.
Well, we're all in the mood for a victory
or soon you won't coach at RU.

It's a pretty good crowd for a Rutgers game.
About twelve thousand fans filled with bile.
But it's forty-one grand who can fit in the stands
and forget about wins for a while.

And Route 18 sounds like a carnival.
Easton Avenue smells like a beer.
And we're well past the day we can blame Terry Shea.
So, hey, Greg! Why are we losing here?

La, da-da, da-de-da, la-da, da-de-da, da-da-da-dum.

Win us a game, you're the Schiano man.
Win us a game or two.
Well, we're all in the mood for a victory
or soon you won't coach at RU.