Verse I

Recalling prohibition days,
When he was just a kid.
Mom said, "Hide! There's bullets flyin!"
So that's just what they did.
The war waged on for three long days,
Fought o'er a moonshine still.
Gunshots heard through window screens,
As they hid neath the sill.


Chorus

It was the roaring twenties and,
The Tommy guns did roar.
The blood flowed with the whiskey as,
The Reaper kept the score.
Though long ago, the legend still,
Lives on forevermore,
Of the great St. Louis massacre,
Of nineteen twenty-four.


Verse II

When finally all the shooting stopped,
The kids just had a ball,
Through blood-stained streets they ran to dig.
The bullets from the wall.
No way of telling now or then,
How many fought and died.
Neath grandstands of the greyhound track,
The bodies they did hide.


Verse III

This tale is true, as told to me,
My father was that lad.
His childhood had this one bright spot,
Though much of it was sad.
Seems strange to think a shooting spree,
Could somehow bring such joy.
Excitement coursed right through the veins,
Of that scared little boy.