Just a baby I was crying Mom was screaming
A full grown rat had crawled in my crip
It was summer, hot, the windows left open
Milk was delivered left in boxes on the front porch
Next to the ice box--a big block of ice
picked up with these hugh prongs and broken
The phone was a party line--you had to wait to use it
The second time Mom screamed we moved
I was playing with a spider in my crib
Grandpa took it and said, "My God it is a Black Widow."
We moved to a different place in the city
It was still the ghetto--called Rat City
A tiny house but not shared by neighbors up above
First day, out in the world, six, I was fistfighting
with a nine year old all the kids cheering him on
Fast food was when Mom got home after seven each night
cube steak, liver and onions on friday nights
You didn't like it--you sat until you gained a taste
television a eight inch screen if the neighbor would
talk his Mom into letting you sit on the floor
Organized sports--the bigger kids chose up sides
Girls sports--ring around the rosie, drop the hankey
Favorite mode of transportation a "1938" World bicycle
Most constant companion, Barney my dog, a neighbor kid
Where I spent my summer vacation--the lake
How I made movie money--picked beans or wild Blackberries
we picked along the road in coffee cans--if they
liked you--they would invite you back for a slice
My heroes, the Babe, Mickey Mantle, Yogi, Bob Cousy
You know it really was not a bad time to grow up