Tony (Boston's Chosen Son)

Set against the fading Fenway sun
Years since the last pennant had been won
Long since the Bambino had been bought
Boston found the hero it had sought
Tony, our hearts beat as one
Tony, you’re Boston’s chosen son
In August, he was only 22
And there was nothing that he couldn’t do
That bastard, Hamilton, threw at his head
Tony dropped, the crowd feared he was dead
Tony, our hearts bleed as one
Tony, what has that pitcher done?
But miracle of miracles
On Lansdowne Street
A comeback and a home run swing
Returning, oh, so sweet
But it was never meant to be
Tony cried «I cannot see»
His eyes, they fade, the fans, they cried
And at 45, Tony died
Tony, our hearts, they still ring true
Tony, we still remember you
Tony, our hearts, they beat as one
Tony, you’re Boston’s chosen son