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Lyrics:
She’s out the door before the dawn,
She walks six blocks for breakfast.
She don’t like to eat alone.
God bless the waitress.
Leave a fifty cent tip.
But the small talk ends with Hello.
She grabs her purse, her scarf and her coat.
Joins the crowd at the bus for the morning commute.
It’s a forty-minute ride to the place downtown.
That’s where she worked for twenty years,
It’s a Wendy’s now.
It used to sell men’s suits,
A tailor shop downstairs.
The best friends she ever had
worked with her down there.
Marella, Maria, Hungarian Mary
Speaking Portuguese, Greek, Slovak and Italian
I wonder where they are now?
They weren’t young like me
And I’m seventy-eight.
They might not even be alive anymore.
Up one block and over two,
there’s a church where I like to sit.
I never learned to read English but I open a Bible.
It’s like holding the hand of a friend.
I could stay at home, sure,
but I’d go out of my mind
In all these long years,
I’ve never wasted my time
The candles, the statues,
the echo of prayers
There’s a service at noon…
And then where?
Say hello to Father Frank
and catch the bus home
Turn on the radio
and wait by the phone
Pictures of grandchildren taped to the wall.
Is it Tuesday or Wednesday?
Maybe my Patsy will call.
In Duquesne, you can’t afford to retire
In Duquesne, you work till your time is expired
We came halfway around the world to be here.
For this? For what? Somebody’s bright idea.
We never really believed it would be paved with gold.
I guess there’s no place on earth that it’s good to be old
Like me.
Just wait. You’ll see.
Just wait. You’ll see.
Up one block and over two,
there’s what’s left of the five-and-ten store
In its heyday, it used to have a little lunch counter
That only served breakfast, of course.
It’s a pharmacy now, And a nice nice man
makes sure that you take the right pills.
And that’s important, you know,
Sometimes these old people like me forget.
These Americans, let me tell you,
And I’m one of them, you understand,
They live in homes they didn’t build,
Eating food they didn’t grow,
Traveling roads they didn’t clear,
Work for bosses they don’t know.
Somebody picks up your garbage,
Get your water through pipes
And your power through cables
Like a God-given right
These Americans, let me tell you
And I’m one of them you understand
They want to kill you if you try to tell them
That this isn’t really God’s plan.
In Duquesne, you can’t afford to retire
In Duquesne, you work till your time is expired
We came halfway around the world to be here.
For this For what Somebody’s bright idea.
We never really believed it would be paved with gold.
I guess there’s no place on earth that it’s good to be old
Like me.
Just wait. You’ll see. Just wait. You’ll see.
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PJ Bostic Hope In The Winter Stage (independent)
