The Day That The News Died

These words are a rewrite to the popular Don McLean song, “American Pie”. While I don’t own rights to the melody of that song, I encourage readers to listen or imagine the tune along with the below until a proper video can be made.

But then June came and made me shiver

With every paper that wasn’t delivered

The bad news hit online

I couldn’t write one more byline.

I can’t remember if I cried

After feeling so pushed aside.

But something touched me deep inside

The day that the news died.

So bye, bye our independent ally

From the North Fork to the South Fork and even S.I.

And them good ole bonacs were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day the paper dies.

This’ll be the day the paper dies.

Did you write the book of trust?

And do you have faith in all things just?

If the writer tells you so.

‘Cause information isn’t just for the few.

Every week a new issue,

Man, those stories kept coming through.

I was an eager young journalist,

A storyteller with a large contact list.

But I saw all the opportunities missed,

The day that the news died.

I started singin’

Bye, bye our independent ally

From the North Fork to the South Fork and even S.I.

And them good ole bonacs were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day the paper dies.

This’ll be the day the paper dies.

From now on we’ll be our own

The economy stole what we’ve known

But, that’s not how it used to be.

When the phone calls rang it was our routine,

Get the story across every scene 

And use the voice of our entire team. 

Oh and while the publisher was writing down

The headlines around the whole town

The pressroom was adjourned

All articles returned.

And then layout made the final part.

Another week to make our mark

Now we sing dirges in the dark

The day that the news died.

We were singin’

Bye, bye our independent ally

From the North Fork to the South Fork and even S.I.

And them good ole bonacs were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day the paper dies.

This’ll be the day the paper dies.

Charities throughout a summer swelter 

Volunteering at an animal shelter. 

Fifteen weeks and moving fast 

Readership was up and vast .

Visitors tried for a shot at the snaps 

Memorizing the faces of those they’d pass.

 

And the seasons air was sweet perfume 

With Grucci launching perfectly in tune. 

We’d get lost in a daze 

Oh, but now we’ve parted ways.

Cause the big players came to take the field

And just like that our fate was sealed

Do you recall what was revealed

The day that the news died?

We started singin’

Bye, bye our independent ally

From the North Fork to the South Fork and even S.I.

And them good ole bonacs were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day the paper dies.

This’ll be the day the paper dies.

Oh, it only took a single week 

The fires shot across a firing streak 

With no chance left to start again.

So we had to empty sand in our shoes 

To make space for different views 

Culture queen wasn’t our only friend.

Oh and as I wrote that final column, 

It fit the tone in being solemn.

So, no more kiss and tell 

But it was just as well.

And as readers grabbed that last copyright

For memory of the final sight,

Jimmy Mack sang it’ll be alright,

The day the news died

He was singin’

Bye, bye our independent ally

From the North Fork to the South Fork and even S.I.

And them good ole bonacs were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day the paper dies.

This’ll be the day the paper dies.

I was the one doing interviews 

When someone asked me for some happy news,

But I just smiled and turned away.

I went down to the sandy shore 

Where I’d read the paper years before

But this time the paper wasn’t on display. 

And then the community sighed,

While some cried, they know that we tried.

But not a word was spoken

The laptops all were broken.

And the thing that I’ll miss the most

Are the people I met across the coast

Now we all raise a glass and toast to

The day that the news died.

And they were singing

Bye, bye our independent ally

From the North Fork to the South Fork and even S.I.

And them good ole bonacs were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day the paper dies.

This’ll be the day the paper dies.

They were singing

Bye, bye our independent ally

From the North Fork to the South Fork and even S.I.

And them good ole bonacs were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day the paper dies.

This’ll be the day the paper dies.