“THE PINETREE SANDLOT BALLPARK”
A sandlot here, somewhat fenced in,
Built by my Unc’, now passed away.
I walk around it and used to win,
At baseball when I was young and thin,
A ballpark we blessed many a day.
This family land, we’re tending still,With taxes we’ve paid every year,
We’ll sell that lot; one day we will,
But pinetree memories will always thrill,
Me, as children play and bring their gear.
I walked the lot the other day,
Upon a path, long mowed by me,
And to the boys who’d come to play,
I greeted them with a fond “Hurray,
“Returning their ball lost ‘neath the tree.
And soon I walked and saw a sign,
“Stay out” the boys had posted there,A boy did cry,
“This lot is mine,”They broke the fence and felled the pine.
No memories were there to share.
The “equity” of youth seems clear,
They will demand the past to go,
To forget all except the fear,
Of “Youth Must Rule;” I’ll shed a tear,
For in their eyes my youth won’t show.