By M. E. Riddle
Drone on, you tired,
And your father’s father,
Nothing left to history ‘till that rock-n-roll music.
(Never realized it could happen to me)
Do ya wanna dance, John?
Everly played until the dawn.
Driven by passion, we were Quarrymen,
Johnny-In-The-Moondog, Silver Beatle.
Bohemian in school, lost in Hamburg,
Professional clothes, mainline smokes.
Lunchtime sessions, I wanna be your man,
Routine Epstein was Mister Martin’s plan.
Please, please me Pete,
Love, love me do.
Come on Richard Starkey,
Don’t sing the blues.
© Copyright 2016 meriddle. All rights reserved.