They've garnered no awards
For Madison Avenue techniques
No Scholars, financial wizards
Of whom I can speak.
In a class all their own
True "diamonds in the rough";
You'll find no phonies here
They're made of finer stuff.
For they're "The Regulars"
Of that old gang of mine
Boyhood chums and buddies
Who chose to stay behind
They had no dreams of grandeur
No big deals, no schemes;
A good time with the guys
Was the sum of all their dreams.
I can still see "Satch" and "Boo-Boo"
At the neighborhood saloon;
Downing beer and singing hoarse
To an old time Irish tune.
Easy come~easy go-
They pass through life unseen;
Men such as they--today-
Are few and far between.
But, they've left their mark-
And their mold's tossed away;
It's a story of success
In a different sort of way.
While the gray flannel suiters
Claw their way to fame,
I often think of "The Regulars"
And how they'd play the game.
For when the score is finally tallied
On each man's true worth
I'll vouch for "The Regulars"
Truly-"The Salt of the Earth"!
Tom O'Gorman
1964
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