There were two men down And the score was tied In the bottom of the eighth When the pitcher died And they laid his spikes On the pitcher's mound And his uniform was torn And his number was left on the ground Then the night turned cold Colder than the moon The stars were white as bones The stadium was old Older than the screams Older than the teams There were three men down And the season lost And the tarpaulin was rolled Upon the winter frost There were three men down And the season lost And the tarpaulin was rolled Upon the winter frost