Downtrodden Alley. Poem by Charles M Moore

From downtrodden alley we sat on the stairs
of the tenement buildings that led to nowhere
and we watched as the gangsters, the pimps, and the tramps
handed bribes to the coppers without any thanks

We were just kids, a mixture of sorts
of Spanish, Italians, Irish, and Scots
all of us vermin and not to be seen
by the people uptown who thought life was a dream

And the stench from the sewers would mix with the blood
like the guy who was shot on a wink and a nod
for upsetting some Moll whose connections were grey
but life has no value where poverty plays

And the Salvation Army would march down the street
with their instruments tied to their waist on a cleat
to deter the unruly, most of all us
from stealing their trumpets and selling the brass

We would be runners for some hoodlums book
five cents on the dollar for being a crook
money invested on making a claim
with the men of importance who never had names

They demolished the alleys down where we grew
they say it's now better, it's clean and it's new
where the streets are all empty and crime is quite scarce
but memories are strong of our life on the stairs.