With Bob Dylan turning 70 this week, I found my thoughts straying to memories of another musical icon of similar vintage:
Oh Boy!
He was there every week
on Granny's TV.
And I was there to worship.
He clutched himself
and smouldered. Yes, smouldered
and sang, Turn me loose, Turn me loose.
He wore a pink jacket,
a colour for girls. But not for me
and the Sunday School.
He wore a black shirt
and I wanted one. Not in this house,
said Dad, sipping tea.
He greased his hair back
and so did I, with water,
Brylcreem, anything.
He wore a silver crucifix.
I bought one, secretly,
and wore it to The Baths.
And then one night he disappeared;
Uncle Eddie switched Cliff off:
men always watched the football.
Poem taken from PAPER RUN
(Mariscat Press).
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