Jukebox

I thought the youngsters (under sixties) wouldn’t remember doing this but my son fifty two says he has some

Jukebox

It stood majestic in the cafe,
a sight for all to see
Chromium and shining bright,
played  loud as loud could be

We ordered frothy coffee,
served in a Pyrex cup
We hadn’t got much money,
so it took an hour to sup

Ned Miller was my premier spin,
as he began to sing
He told about the girl he got,
and turned from jack  to king

I remember Elvis Presleys hips,
that Bob Dylan foretold doom
That we gyrated and we swayed,
packed tight inside that room

Gerry Marsden was inviting us,
to ferry cross the Mersey
Val Doonigan sat in  rocking chair,
clad in a knitted jersey

Cliff Richards Summer holiday,
Freddy n Dreamers fooled around
As we all bopped and wriggled,
enchanted by the sound

When  records they had served their time,
from  hit parade had gone
They were sold to us poor kids,
though centres they had none

Woolies sold the middles,
we stuck ‘em  in with tape
Then played the discs so often,
how did they keep their shape?

Botch jobs didn’t matter,
in those days we weren’t petty
As long as they revolved around,
the deck of our Dancette

Glenys Halliday