Late af-ter-noon an-o-ther day is near-ly done That hol -ow hur-ried sound Of feet on pol-ished floor And in the dol-lar store The clerk is clos-ing up And count-ing loon-nies try-ing not to say I hate Win-ni-peg The dri-ver checks his mir-ror sev-en min-utes late The same route ev-ery day and in the turn-ing lane Some-one's stalled a-gain He's talk-ing to him-self And here's the price of gas re-peat his phrase I hate Win-ni-peg And up a-bove us all Lean-And sing I love this town Then watch his arc-ing wreck-ing ball pro-claim A dar-ker grey is break-ing through a light-er one The crow-ded ri-ders rest-less-ness en-un-ci-ates ing in to sky Our A thous-and sharp-ened el-bows in the un-der-ground The Guess Who sucked the Jets were lou-sy an-y-way gol-den bus-iness boy Will watch the north end die And