‘Sounds of the Seventies’

My mind memorizes those dancehall nights
when we bopped till we dropped to the 70’s delights
We travelled our lands with our handbags in our hands
dressed top to toe in the latest brands

Monday thru to Friday we worked on the factory floor
Then if we’d saved up our pennies
we’d buy a new dress to adore

After dialing up the numbers in the telephone kiosk
down on the corner of the street
just so you knew when to meet

We’d meet our friends at the bus stop
catch the number 43
Run to the back seat
chat together merrily

Talking about Saturday night 
Excitement filled the smokey air
Coz back in our days
Smoker’s smoked everywhere

There was no such thing as a smoke-free zone
So after you had been in the pubs
how your folks did moan

You would smell like a kipper
but without the fish
The stale smell would linger on your clothes until your Mam’s washing swish

Never-the-less those days were good
How you wish you could go back there
Dressed up in Sargent Pepper jeans 
with your rusty ‘Ziggy’ cut hair

Buying your booze from the pub
before you hit the ‘Viking’ grounds
With handbags plonked down in the center
best friends dancing to the sounds

At the end of the evening 
when all the dance clubs were shut
you would slowly stagger home 
feeling a trifle half-cut

With your boyfriends hand
how you thought it felt grand
Then you’d kiss him goodnight
under the yellow street light

Yes the ‘Sounds of the seventies’
You still hear them played now
In every era that has followed
We salute our bands with a bow