There's an innocent time that I recall
when every girl is Cinderella at a bobby-sox ball
each guy, a penny-loafer prince in a white letter sweater
and the jukebox music keeps getting better
A place where the teens are not overly hip
where the burn-outs and greasers don't dare give them lip
where 350-engines purr under car hoods
where heroes are handsome, virtuous and good
The Beach Boys are gone now
Bobby Vee, Neil Sedaka, Chuck Berry too
Hearing their music brings a tear to my eye
If I make it to Heaven, I hope they'll drop by
Categories:
greasers, dance, fashion, memory, music,
Form: Couplet
My blind date Frank showed up at the door,
his curly hair was slick with grease,
a mad plaid jacket topped his Bermuda shorts,
as a pink ivy-league shirt showed his neck warts.
I took one look and and wanted to run away,
doing a favor for my cousin would be no more,
this guy was the king of the greasers plus,
swallowing my pride I chose not to fuss.
Adding to this comedy hour of a blind date,
he led me to a bright yellow Volks Beatle car,
his Great Dane Jerry was in the back seat,
he slobbered all over me when I gave him a treat.
It was dinner time and my tummy grumbled,
Frank asked me if I wanted something to eat,
nodding my head he drove to a pizza joint,
'Mamma Fazina's Guaranteed Not to Disappoint.'
Jerry ate the left-over pizza with one gulp,
licking the box in case he missed some more,
the four-legged chaperone took a snooze,
while Frank and I enjoyed a drive and a shmooze.
I learned long ago, looks are deceiving,
as I eventually married my blind date Frank,
he still has his warts and can't dress a hoot,
married fifty years and I love my greasy coot.
Categories:
greasers, humorous,
Form: Rhyme