When Mum was out, the radio
Was turned up if they played The Shads
The path of pop was ever paved
With poses. (Rackets ready, lads?)
There's something very Boys Own Paper
Wholesome, homespun and complete
About the pizzicato bridge
The trademark twang, the youth-club beat
The cheerful manly tremolo
And nothing soft about our Hank
No gloopy love songs here, my boys
It's just a Geordie and his plank
A symphony in monochrome
And Genie With The Light Brown Lamp
He loiters in your lost arcades
Like pinball, paraffin and damp
It's frothy coffee, ersatz cola
Crisps with little bags of salt
That punch the paunchy Peter Pans
When Hank unlocks the memory vaults
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