This is a poem my dad ( who is 81 now) wrote when he was 18.....in 1935. While living in Corpis Christi Tx. He met a man named Toni Peroni who had a fruit stand on the beach. Everyday on Dads' way to work Toni would pitch him a goodie from his cart.
They became friends.

Toni Peroni

I'ma a Toni Peroni, a son of da beach

I live in a shack where the seagulls be so rich.

They say to me Toni why for you stay here?

You makea da more money if you sella da beer!!

.And I say I donna care if I never be rich

I'ld rather be just a poor son of da beach.

Now yesterday I hear two fellas talk on da sand about a fella called Hitler a big fuero man.

I donna understand what dey say in dey speech

but it seems he too is a son of da beach

Now I donna think dey mean he be a fella like me

cause he donna live in a shack by da sea

I'ma just a poor Dego and darna glad I am

and not what you call a big Fuero man

Cause some day I die

and when Heaven I reach

They"ll say ...Come in here Toni you son of da beach!!!

~J.B.~

This poem is published and copyrighted@

Home

FastCounter by LinkExchange