At the end of Cape Cod Bay,
Tucked away with now the
Bustling, narrow streets,
Gulls, the houses and the shops
All close together,
Marvin is not alone,
But, he is.
Up front of the parade
He honors the City of Champions
Now one hundred years old,
Marvin and Pat and Goody say,
"Happy Centennial, Happy Day,"
The Champion is not alone,
But, he is.
Marvin is not alone,
People are plenty, the
Camp is downtown Saturday night,
Beside the pool the
Songs are sweet, it is busy,
Busy in the Inn, no, not alone,
But, he is.
Skipping, hitting, swimming,
Sparring in the night,
A nap, a thought, a prayer
In the day, having a meal
Of eggs, of fish,
The Champion is not alone,
But, he is.
In the morning a
Million pebbles of sand,
In the evening a
Million tears of sweat, the
Sweat and sand in the millions,
Marvin is not alone,
But, he is.
A phone call or two the
Night before the morning
Mail, later, jotting a card,
Answering a few, signing
For the fans, ever responding,
The Champion is not alone,
But, he is.
Marvin is not alone,
Goody is in the corner,
Pat is in there, too,
They chat, confide, laugh
a game of Hearts, map a
Plan of War, no, not alone,
But, he is.
The Champion is not alone,
Like none of us want
To be, or have to be;
He is with his hopes, and
Those he is hopeful for, the
Ones nearest to him, not alone,
But, he is.
As the days go ticking by
To the time and the stage,
Vito Antuofermo, Vito,
Be there on the 13th, Boston,
In the Garden ring, Vito,
Be there, then
The Champion is not alone.