Richard Shindell     Sparrows Point  written by Richard Shindell 
 
C#m   E    B   C#m 
 
C#m     E           B     C#m 
My name is William  Taylor 
C#m   E              B         C#m     E              B   C#m 
I was born in twenty four Too  late to know the great fallen 
C#m    E                      B 
But in time to know the great fall 
B        A       E        B   C#m 
When my  father  died of  money 
C#m  A       E           B 
My   mother  lived in spite 
B   A            E           B   C#m 
We  laughed when nothing was funny 
C#m                  E             B 
But how we wept when nothing was left 
B     C#m      E         B          C#m 
So I  left her there in  boom town 
C#m    E                   B 
When I reached fifteen years 
B     C#m       E      B     C#m 
And I travelled mostly northeast 
C#m     E                B 
With my head held mostly down 
B           A               E        B         C#m 
Cause they  said there was  more in  Baltimore 
C#m          A         E        B 
Where those  shipyards never close 
B       A        E         B   C#m 
You can sell the man your  labor 
C#m       E     B    C#m      E         B     C#m 
Send the  money home Broadway found me  pennyless 
C#m     E                B   
And the mission found me last 
B    C#m       E         B          C#m 
They gave me a coat and  three days rest 
C#m      E           B      A         E     B         C#m 
And when I awoke and left a shroud of steam surrounded me 
C#m  A      E      B 
And  I was  born away 
  A        E      B         C#m 
I found myself at Sparrows Point 
C#m               E     B 
With a sling-shot in my hand 
B    C#m      E      B     C#m    E             B  
And  standing there around me Two thousand idle hands 
B          C#m         E 
With their heads bowed low 
      B         C#m 
Their hopes not high 
C#m   E                      B 
Their hearts weaned of their homes 
B          A        E        B      C#m 
And their  pockets  full of  photographs 
C#m        A         E         B 
And their  eyes full of goodbyes 
B      A   E      B        C#m 
I took my  place among my kind 
C#m           E        B 
And I held my place in line 
B        C#m    E       B       C#m 
Now I'm  twenty one and well employed 
C#m   E                 B 
And I send home most my pay 
B             C#m    E        B     C#m 
Which leaves  plenty left for cigarettes 
C#m E                    B 
To  help me pass the days 
B      A      E      B          C#m 
With beloved friends surrounding me 
C#m      A          E     B 
The cold street so  far away 
A           E        B   C#m 
Three days  west of  Normandy 
C#m          E     B 
With a rifle in my hand 
 
From Richard Shindell "Live At The Postcrypt Coffeehouse" 
                            Columbia University 
Fast Folk Records 1992 
FF CD 509