An once of Heroin, a glass of Vodka;
A Crucifix and a Gun
Sonny, Why Sonny
Oh Lord! What have you done?
With a sad and hard
An impoverished upbringing,
To the sound of incarceration
The prison bell ringing.
But came the feel of victory
With the Golden Gloves,
Pugilism brought honour
One of life’s great loves.
But with underworld interested
Influenced and financed,
To the tune of the racketeer
Sonny now danced.
Then to the glory and adulation
Excelled into destiny – he’s hurled
With Patterson out in round one
The New Champion of the World;
Seems a long time now
State of Maine in 65’.
Rumour said round one
You took that dive.
A phantom punch
From the Louisville lip;
Were you paid off
Or was it just a slip?
Was life itself the fight
That put you to the test
When engaged in the ring
You were the very best;
Did you bet against yourself
To pay off bad debt
Mafia’s promissory note
You could never forget.
And some years later
The celestial bell rang,
For the Big Bear’s passing
The local choir sang.
Was it an accident
Murder or suicide?
Police investigation
Would suspiciously hide.
Found dead in his flat
Just after New Year
Connoisseurs of pugilism
Would all shed a tear.
From poverty to fame
And men labelled great,
To battled for glory
Their ensuing fate.
Underworld vengeance
Or by you ‘re own hand?
Such a great loss
Could never understand.
An once of Heroin, a glass of Vodka;
A Crucifix and a Gun
Sonny, Why Sonny
Oh Lord! What have you done?
