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Teenage Dreams So Hard to Beat

Peter Goulding

Friday, October 29th, 2004

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 John Peel R.I.P.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Lying in my bed,
With the set beside my head,
Fumbling for the dial when I heard my mother’s tread.
When ten o’clock came round,
I knew just where you would be found,
The record player turned off for that rock and reggae sound.
It seemed to be a rule,
For you to mention Liverpool,
Your dry laconic humour the epitome of cool.
And when the Reds had won,
You might inject a bit of fun,
A pride in your home city that was never overdone.
But music was your passion
Whether in and out of fashion,
And every night I tuned you in to get my daily ration.
And you sullied not each platter
With some aimless, mindless chatter,
Confirming that the music overshadowed any patter.
But I’m very much afraid
To say I very rarely stayed
Awake despite the new, exciting music that you played.
And next morning I’d awake
To my mother’s urgent shake,
With the radio beside me hiss-hiss-hissing like a snake.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Grandad, mam and dad,
Shaped out the childhood that I had,
Johnny, Joey, Dee Dee moved me when I was a lad,
And that ’77 summer
That revolved around Joe Strummer,
Twenty quid a week and the economists were glummer.
All those teenage dreams are dead,
And the thoughts torment my head,
And I’m much too old for rock ‘n’ roll, as Johnny Thunders said.
And you too now are gone,
And I sorely miss you John,
And I thank you for the memories I now look back upon.

© Peter Goulding 29th October 2004

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/teenage-dreams-so-hard-to-beat/