Richard Shindell Sparrows Point
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My name is William Taylor
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I was born in twenty four Too late to know the great
fallen
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But in time to know the great fall
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When my father died of money
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My mother lived in spite
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We laughed when nothing was funny
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But how we wept when nothing was left
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So I left her there in boom town
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When I reached fifteen years
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And I travelled mostly northeast
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With my head held mostly down
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Cause they said there was more in Baltimore
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Where those shipyards never close
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You can sell the man your labor
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Send the money home Broadway found me pennyless
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And the mission found me last
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They gave me a coat and three days rest
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And when I awoke and left a shroud of steam surrounded
me
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And I was born away
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I found myself at Sparrows Point
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With a sling-shot in my hand
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And standing there around me Two thousand idle hands
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With their heads bowed low
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Their hopes not high
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Their hearts weaned of their homes
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And their pockets full of photographs
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And their eyes full of goodbyes
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I took my place among my kind
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And I held my place in line
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Now I'm twenty one and well employed
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And I send home most my pay
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Which leaves plenty left for cigarettes
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To help me pass the days
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With beloved friends surrounding me
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The cold street so far away
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Three days west of Normandy
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With a rifle in my hand
