When the bell rings
and it's time to go
I will remember you;
a crafty smirk,
a smoking nib,
a style that was
never too cool
for school.
Read about Leo Baxendale here
In this Parish,
everybody needs
to breach the peace
once in a while,
cut and run,
churn up the bayou
and that means you, smartass.
Eventually
all blood runs cold,
and phantom rockers
may behold
their cloud-girt angel
as God's centrefold.
This was our old mate,
foot-tapping and avid till the end,
inverting the old cliché;
if you don’t remember the 60’s
you could still go there.
Read about Brian Matthew here