Saturday Night SurfA Poem by Bill MacEachernDance hall days
Saturday Night Surf
We use to Surf On Saturday nights The Surf Ballroom Up a thousand flights Didn’t Hang Ten But did Tighten Up Did the Funky Chicken And built up buttercup Blue suede shoes Silk stripe pants Looking like peacocks Ready to dance We had Utopia The Pilgrims Rockin’ Ramrods too When The Technique’s Played Shotgun All understood This would be our last dance So do it now And do it good By:Bill MacEachern 03/29/2021 © 2021 Bill MacEachern |
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