Records In Your Room
I had my time, you had your time,
the time when music meant most to you.
The nineteen sixties, that was my time,
my first full decade, born as I was in 1952.
Elvis Presley sang Heartbreak Hotel.
Some listened to it till they knew it well,
learned to play it on guitar,
to follow him to be a star.
Buddy Holly sang Peggy Sue.
Keep it simple seemed the thing to do.
Lonnie Donegan sang Putting On The Style,
played skiffle with mischief in his smile.
Harry Belafonte sang Island In The Sun.
Tap your feet to its calypso beat.
Bob Dylan sang Masters of War.
Made sure we knew what protest was for.
The Beatles sang We Can Work It Out.
They’d come a long way since Twist and Shout.
Bad news hit us like a metal glove.
They gave us hope with All You Need Is Love.
Peter, Paul and Mary sang Blowing In The Wind.
Simon and Garfunkel sang The Sound of Silence.
Martin Carthy sang Scarborough Fair.
All part of the folk revival.
John Mayall led the British blues boom.
To be tuned in, feel part of it all,
you had your records in your room.
Donovan sang Hurdy Gurdy Man.
Leonard Cohen sang Suzanne.
No more war, peace was the plan.
Fairport Convention sang Tam Lin.
The Incredible String Band sang The Circle Is Unbroken.
The fence was lept, the gate was open.
Tim Hardin, John Martyn, the list is long.
What a time for new kinds of song.
It was our music, the words and tunes we could understand.
Surprise and wonder, none of it was planned.
I loved it then, still love it now.
My path was clear, so was my brow.