ST. LOUIS SUNDAY

ST. Louis Sportsman's Park 1926

Baseball is the biggest religion,

That's the fact, Jack, and true,

There is always, ALWAYS somethin' to do,

In St. Louis the town of my birth,

No! Who said I was from Perth?

Australia is 10,000 miles away from the housing projects where I used to play,

On the south side of that beer town,

where the sky was often brown, back then,

from the smokestacks of all the dirty factories, when working hard was not a sin.

We went to the Highlands, and the zoo.

On a sunny day, and then the special, magical Veiled Prophet Parade, 

That was dark and majestic, and I didn't really understand what it meant, 

With the princesses, and the man in the veil.

The enormous Clydesdales, mane and tail.

Dad played baseball in the Muny League,

Back when he was young and strong,

With his blazing speed,

Then he would take me to the bar,

With his baseball cronies,

Real honest guys, no phonies.

They would buy me anything I desired,

A coke, beer nuts, could all be acquired,

From hardened men who had gone to war, In WW2 , but I had no clue who they were,

And how they kept us free,

At 8 years old it was all about me.

People would just stop by back then,

No phone calls ahead of time,

The houses were free from dirt and grime,

So they could drop in anytime.

Mondays the women hung out their clothes,

So they could compare white to white,

And they would seldom shout or fight,

Because it was all white as the whitest snow,

Anywhere you cared to go.

We made up games with sticks and cans,

And listened to the radio about Stan the Man,

And take our broom handle and make a swat,

Just like him in the vacant lot,

In St. louis, in the summer.....so awful hot!!