Little Bridge Boy
In the city of New York where the rivers are like soy There lived the one they called the Little Bridge Boy Now Bridge Boy was brash and he wore a red sash But he was a smart little boy cuz he carried no cash He hung from the ledges of the fair Brooklyn Bridge And liked to go hopscotching from ridge to ridge From off of this span he would throw little planes While the wind whipped through his blond curly mane The planes would sail gently in a graceful arc And fly as sweetly as the wren or the lark "Fly on little plane! I wish I was you!" Bridge Boy would think as he whispered "Adieu" But as his yearning increased and his admiration grew Little Bridge Boy decided maybe he could fly too So he climbed to the top of the uppermost wire Gave the bridge a caress and fulfilled his desire The little boy soared (to the delight of the bridge) But the angels in Heaven said, "This is sacrilege! Only souls in God's presence have a license to fly So confess your transgressions and prepare thee to die!" Little Bridge Boy flew on with just one thought in mind To live for the moment and at peace with mankind God in his jealousy snared him, this childlike meteorite But Bridge Boy's last conscious thoughts were of his brief and handsome flight Little Bridge Boy, you were far too sweet and much too young to die And sometimes at night I walk the bridge and hang my head and cry.