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.
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!!!
This poem is published and copyrighted@
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