Sparrows Point

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My name is William  Taylor
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I was born in twenty four Too  
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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 
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left
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So I  left her there in  boom 
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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
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 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 
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found me  pennyless
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And the mission found me last
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They gave me a coat and  three 
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days rest
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And when I awoke and left a 
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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 
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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  
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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 
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employed
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And I send home most my pay
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Which leaves  plenty left for 
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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