SOUTH PHILLY BOY

By Willie O'Neill & KO Becky O'Neill

A young South Philly boy looking for fame,

Decided to try his luck in the boxing game.

After a few amateur bouts, he turned pro.

In his quest for top honors, he traveled the world to and fro.

Come November 1976, on a cold winter night,

He was waiting to begin a championship fight.

His opponent the Champ was tall, hard punching and smart,

But the challenger was ready to teach him the fistic art.

The champion was snarling and had a leering smile,

But was missing with the right, by a country mile.

The challenger jabbed, hooked and moved so fast,

He reminded old timers of Midget Wolgast.

He was boxing beautifully, taking care of his task,

But was butted in the 13th, his face a bloody red mask.

He controlled the fight right from the start,

And in the last three rounds showed plenty of heart.

The bout was over and all awaited the decision,

Which was greeted by jeers and sounds of derision.

The record the boy carried without a smudge,

Was ruined by of all things, a Philadelphia judge.

Escalera departed town and as he went up the ramp,

He knew in his heart, he was not really the champ.

The person deserving the Jr. Lightweight throne,

Is the South Philly boy we all know as Tyrone.

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