richard shindell
sparrow's point
My name is William Taylor I was born in '24 Too late to know the Great Fallen In time to know the Great Fall When my father died of money My mother lived in spite We laughed when nothing was funny And how we wept when nothing was left  So I left there in boomtown When I reached fifteen years I travelled mostly northeast With my head held mostly down  'Cause they said there was more in Baltimore Where those shipyards never close You can sell the man your labor And send the money home  Broadway found me penniless The mission found me last They gave me a coat and three days rest And when I awoke and left A shroud of steam surrounded me And I was borne away I found myself at Sparrows Point With a slingshot in my hand.  Standing there around me Two thousand idle hands Their heads bowed low, their hopes not high Their hearts weaned of their homes Their pockets full of photographs Their eyes full of goodbyes I took my place among my kind And I held my place in line  Now I'm twenty one and well-employed I send home most of my pay Which leaves plenty left for cigarrettes To help me pass the days With beloved friends surrounding me The cold streets so far away Three days west of Normandy A rifle in my hand.