It’s once more time to reminisce, ’bout the stars that we still miss,
From the Seventies, now that we’re long in the tooth;
When our vinyl used to hiss, so let’s look down the abyss
Down the decades, back to when we had our youth

David Essex charmed ‘the ladies’ before TOWIE,
It was Kate Bush caused us blokes to drool and howl,
And in between paraded David Bowie,
Who you would have to say was ‘neither fish nor fowl’

We tuned in to check Dawn’s detainee had maybe
Had a yellow ribbon tied around his oak tree;
Roy Wood had Wizzard, for to jive ‘longside his ‘Baby’;
Debbie Harry sang up front with her group, Blondie

Suzi Quatro urged her public, ‘Can The Can’ (around us gents),
10 cc sufficed to fill our pop glass (with joy);
Ian Dury banged his drum ‘gainst waste, in a non-ecological sense,
But nowhere yet any notable green envoys

The Hollies pulled their weight, stuck with a fraternal ‘heavy’ load,
Whilst The Blockheads hit us with their rhythm stick;
Elton John excelled, as he went to leave his own ‘Yellow Brick Road’,
Whilst The Pink Floyd dubbed us ‘just another brick’

John and Yoko, in the buff, would often get the huff,
Jilted John raged at his foes, Gordon and Julie;
‘Slag’, ‘Creep’ and ‘Tart’, he cried, and ‘Bitch’ and ‘Puff’,
He wanted Barry to go and kick ’em in the goolies

The Floaters, as their name suggests, were typecast,
Wouldn’t disappear, should have gone straight down the loo;
Whilst some, flushed with success, deposited pure class –
‘Life On Mars’, ‘I’m Not In Love’ and ‘Without You’

We had Disco Ducks, and Pussycat’s Mississippi;
Crazy Horses, yes, and Matchstalk Cats And Dogs
Sprinkled (the charts) more than did Mr Whippy,
But Paul McCartney as yet hadn’t spawned his frogs

John Lydon, we know, thought of himself as ‘Rotten’,
Whilst others liked to portray themselves as tough;
So how could Alan Freeman perchance have gotten
The super hard nickname, and monicker, ‘Fluff’?

There was Don Estelle, and ‘lovely boy’ Windsor Davies,
Lots of comedy turns, who did you like the best?
Billy Connolly, or Benny Hill’s chart alias,
‘Ernie (The Fastest Milkman In The West)’?

Shane Fenton’s sixties chart success foretold
Of his relaunch as Alvin Stardust, when less spry;
But you’d search without success to find ‘most anyone as old
As the teenagers in ‘Grease’ at Ryedell High

‘Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough’ cried Michael Jackson,
Reserves of stamina were clearly his to summon;
But not everyone was ready for the action –
Joe Tex warned us he’d ‘Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman)’

There were Wombles, Smurfs and daft old Father Abraham,
Who came from Holland, and appeared a bit of a geek;
But I’m not bothered, for he’s saved me from a right jam –
At last I’ve found a rhyme to fit in Chic

‘Amarillo’ was the way for Tony Christie,
‘Country Roads’ beckoned Olivia Newton-John;
Ray Stevens lent a country feel to ‘Misty’,
Though it was his own take on ‘The Streak’ made No 1

When it came to what we ate, we had little on our plate,
Just some Meatloaf, and some Bread, and ‘Milk and Honey’
(Came first in Eurovision ’78*),
And a Carrott (Jasper, rode a moped he found funky)

One thing the Seventies never, ever lacked was colour
(Nights In White Satin, Pink Ladies, Brown Sugar and Hues
Corporation); previous decades had been much duller –
And through it all was Justin Hayward’s Moody Blues

When it came to how to dress, there were no rules to transgress,
Lurex, boas, flares and glitter all caught on;
Fashion now’s a nondescript mess, no one knows how to impress –
But we had role models: Bolan, Bowie and Elton John!!

Abba certainly earned themselves some pretty pennies
(And here my own view’s what is totally decretal),
Bjorn, Agnetha, also Frida and spouse Benny –
Best band we ever had after The Beatles

But with a few groups – just no memory adhesion,
For we too had dross and pure baloney then;
Yet there were others we’d recall for better reasons –
Who’d ever not remember Boney M?!

That’s it for now, we’re done, finito, amen,
Put to bed your tartan scarf and tam o’shanter;
All done and dusted, then, so until we meet again,
Remember where to get your fix of seventies’ banter

* ’79 wouldn’t fit!