Spinning
Round and round
Faster and faster
Spinning
Spinning
Out of control
It shakes
It rattles
It rolls
It screams out

Rock Around the Clock

Bill Haley and the Comets, 1955

In the classroom
Coveted children climaxed
To the black beat of its rhythmic soul
Its call echoed
Into
Blackboard jungles of post war youth
Chalked on rock
It rolled into a revolution
This was their anthem
And the times were a changing
The pendulum had swung
Their generation into the booming sixties
Leaving
The late fifties to rock back and forth
With

Side A

Shake Rattle and Roll, Bill Haley and the Comets, 1954 Jailhouse Rock, Elvis Presley, 1957 Long Tall Sally, Little Richard, 1956 Sweet Little Sixteen, Chuck Berry, 1958 Great Balls of Fire, Jerry Lee Lewis, 1957 Raining in my Heart, Buddy Holly, 1959

Flip Side B

Lonely Boy, Paul Anka, 1959 Venus, Frankie Avalon, 1959 It’s Late, Ricky Nelson, 1959 April Love, Pat Boone, 1957 My Happiness, Connie Francis, 1959 Devil or Angel, Bobby Vee, 1960

The American invasion
Left England with its skiffle
But soon
The metal washboards were to be packed
Away into the cubed tea chest
Because
The British invasion
Was about to begin
And the change would come

From Merseyside

In the interim
Your dad would save
His pennies to buy Rock and Roll records
The new 45 r.m.p. were the records of the present
The old 78 r.m.p. were the records of the past
Of course
His dad continued to play the large 78 s on our new wooden radiogram
While your dad adapted his small 45 s on our new radiogram console
Your dad saved up all his money to buy a Pye portable wireless
Snuggled up
He would cozy under his eiderdown
Where he would curl up with

Caroline

A crystal showcase of rock music
Floated
From Luxemburg
And into his small bedroom
Crackling
Into darkness
The soundless waves of music
Rocked him to sleep

A Penny Earned …

Just like William
But unlike William
Your dad was not afraid
To work
At age 9
He was a paperboy
Up at 6:00 A.M.
Back at 8:00 A.M.
4
4
Years
He had a paper route
And he would save all his money
And he would also buy me a little treat with his penny savings

Mind your Car for a Penny (Sir)

At the football match
On Saturday afternoons
He would mind cars (Sir)
For the out of town football fans
Squatted to a street
Close to the football grounds
Back to Back
The mini cars parked along the side of the roads
Little matchbox cars
Stringing the streets like a line of black shelled ants
Ninety minutes
Not including half time
Out they came
Match was over

Run like Rover

Quick as a blink
Give the driver a little wink
Car fine sir
Thank-you sir
Cop a penny in your pocket
Catch the next car
Before they shoot off like a rocket bolt (especially if the visiting team lost)
If you hurry
You will make money
If not
You have lost a lot
And when all the cars have all gone
And your pockets are all full
You jingle off home
Unable to run
But you have lots of pennies
To show dear old mom

A Penny for the Guy

Penny
For the Guy
Sad sacked face
Dirty old clothes
Buttoned up eyes
Carrots for his nose
A hat for his head
A scarf for his neck
Stuffed with straw
From farmer Ned
But him in a pram
But be careful with his head
Wheel him down the road
Picking up the straw
Falling from his seat
Waiting for the penny
That drops
To his feet
Picking up the penny
As we roll him down the street

A Penny for the Parade

A laity
Of gaiety
Paraded the street
Waiting for pennies
To drop at children’s feet

That’s Marlene with the golden crown
She’s the May Day Queen
Dressed in a gown of green
See Jimmy the Duke
Sorry
He is about ready to puke
See the Scrooch named Charley
He is chained to Dickinson’s Marley
How about sissy Sam
Dressed like a little white woolly lamb
Oh theirs snooty Mary
She really is quite contrary
Look at Will
Dressed for the kill
That’s bossy Violet
Dressed like a blood thirsty pirate
I know she’s a girl
But that’s what she wants to be
And that’s Charlie’s little baby brother
Dressed like a tiny bumble bee
How about dirty old Ted
Dressed in his brother’s new pajamas
And already for bed
That’s singing Ronny
Playing the skiffle like Lonnie
No mama
The washboard is to play
Not to scrub the blues away
Then there is big bad John
In his red riding hood
No mama
The axe is not for chopping up firewood
How about me
I am black Samba
Playing my old man’s banjo
My face is shoe polish black
Can’t you see
So how about a penny
For Mammy and me

No children
It was not Halloween
It was our May Day celebration parade
And if your dad could earn a penny
He would find a way
Like my old mom used to say
The grass won’t grow
Green under his feet
Of course
Part of his parade
Followed him to the bloody pubs
Dressed like Samba
He would play his George Formby banjo
To all the patrons in the alehouses
The little sod
Ended up on Scotland Road
With his bloody mates
He sang for his supper
Late at night
Your granddad and I searched for him
Found him
On his way back
With his sodden mates
Filling themselves up with fish and chips
Not a bloody care in the world
Sooty face
Banjo on his shoulder
And two bulging pocketful of pennies
Brimming from the pockets of his threaded seams
Soon his black face turned white
When he saw his dad’s face turn red
Wipe that smile off your nigger face
Or I will wipe it off for you

Aside

The grandchildren gasped with shock
When grandma used the bad word
Nigger
It’s what granddad called them
In those days it seemed all right
For us
It was fine to call the black person that name
But now
We know it was wrong
And even in those days your dad would not call them that
Grandma continued

Tears
Streaked into the soot of his flushed skin
Smearing his face with streams of soluble sadness
His pink lips quivered
Into a gentle smile as I put my Bo jangle to bed
But not before he said
Mammy
How I love you
How I love you
My dear old mammy
Smiling
Together
The lights turned on the darkness
As Al Johnson’s song
Turned my broken heart into saddened joy

… A Penny Saved

The Butcher’s Boy

Still in school
He was no fool
He worked part-time
In a butcher’s shop
After school
He would dress the shop window
In a display of blood meat
And garnish it
In a parsley of shamrock green

Serve the beef
But don’t mince words
Serve the loins
With a banger of love
Serve the lamb
With a pope of prayer
Serve the rump
With a sausage of gaiety
Serve the breast
With a tongue of salt
Serve the tripe
With a ‘pate’ of trite
Serve the drumstick
With a goose of flesh
Serve the pork
With a pound of fat
Serve the heart
With a pudding of kindness
Serve the pheasant
With a wishbone of hope
Serve the lard
With a wiener of sex
Serve the pig
With a knuckle of vengeance
Serve the game
With a grouse of bitterness
Serve the sow
With a shoulder of support
Serve the goose
With a saveloy of sweetness
Serve the turkey
With a butt of laughter
Serve the mutton
With a brain of sawdust
Serve the chop
With a rack of hate
Serve the chicken
With a bone of contention
Serve the brain
With a offal of sense
Serve the Lord
But don’t grind words

Clean out the freezer
With my bloody cold feet
And spread the sawdust to soak up soulless
Meat
Me
After we close up shop
Muttonhead
You’re fired
You don’t sell poultry for a paltry sum

Aside

Once again the grandchildren gasped
With a tittering delight
How come our dad got fired

One word
Brian
Blood brother
To your dad’s mischief

Short tales from the past
Both of them
Hand in hand
Handcuffed together
In the classroom
Both of them
Filling up the pages of the school’s black punishment book
With their documented pranks
Both of them
Expelled from Sunday school
Both of them
Hiding in the public library
When it had been locked and closed for the night
Both of them
Plugging up the public telephones change box
Both of them
Scoffing flowers from the grave sites at Anfields Cemetery
Well at least the flowers were for me
Both of them
Stealing prayer candles from St. Francis Church on Hale Road
So that they can bloody well use them
For their meeting place in an old abandoned air raid shelter
And the odd penny from their stationary collection boxes
Both of them
For pinching chocolate bars
From the little sweet shop on Walton Road
Both of them
Chased by the cocky watchman on Reservoir Hill for calling him names
And the bloody list goes on
But in all fairness the little buggers did not hurt anyone

But Back to the Butcher

After working in the butcher shop
For over one year
Your dad was given additional responsibility
Now he had the chance
To open and close the butcher shop
By himself
This was the first time he was left

Alone