Broadway, where the young men go to drop the coins in one, two, three.

He remembered walking in, not knowing appplesauce from sin.
And uncles trotted one, two, three.

Calling Kyle

His pop was met at the Ballpark Franks, he used to root for the radio
Yanks.
They'd sat they'd aerate the greens.

On Coleman he would spot the sheep, on Christmas he'd kept the keep.
Turkey day saw no greens.

Calling Kyle