Turning the Clock Back

Turning the Clock Back

We’re turning the clock back, my old sweetheart said.
We’re gonna have fun, it’s too late when you’re dead,
We’ll turn back the carpet then you take my hand,
Then we’ll rock around the clock here, to Bill Haley’s band.

You wear your jacket, the long red one please,
The one where the hem comes right down to your knees,
When that velvety collar and cuffs made me sigh,
At the sight of you there in your Teddy Boy tie.

And your shoes please my darling, Brothel Creepers they were,
And your tight drainpipe trousers, and your shiny dark hair,
All slickered with Brylcreem, so smooth and so black,
To show the DA, you had combed at the back.

I’ll wear a mini one of those that you like,
That looked even shorter on your motorbike,
And also those boots, in the white P.V.C.
The ones that you said showed the beauty in me.

Then we’ll dance, Rock and Roll, to the loud strident sound,
To a tune of the Fifties, you will spin me around,
You will hold me so tight while our skill is displayed,
And sneak a kiss on the floor, when the last dance is played.

So come on my sweetheart have this last dance of life,
With the lassie you courted and made her your wife,
For a while, turn the clock back, bring a smile to my face,
And remember times past, – that we can never replace.

Mick.