The keyboard

The keyboard

Didn’t move on its own

From my childhood

Something called

‘Sparky and the magic piano’

About a piano that

Spoke and played all by itself

Cutting out the middleman

Or woman

It might not have been a piano

As the musical voice

Sounded more like an organ

But ‘Tubby the Tuba’

Did sound like a big fat

Brass instrument

Children’s favourites

On the radio

Even as The Beatles

Were re-writing priorities

Pretty soon children

Were consumers worthy

Of better programming

There was also a “Family favourites’

As I recall

When British overseas forces

Requested songs

To be played for their loved ones

Back home and vice versa

Germany seemed such

A long way away

Cyprus more exotic

Time was certainly changing

Our expectations

The Yanks had

Bob Hope and Betty Grable’s legs

Did they know Bob was a Brit

They thought Chaplin

Was a Socialist

And Lennon a danger

To democracy

It is a strange day

When we can all agree

How stupid something is

The Blackbird on the roof

Opposite,

Where the gable ends,

Was joined by another

A duo that didn’t sing

With any melody

I wanted to hear

Thankfully

Their tete a tete

Was interrupted by another

Three is a crowd

And after a few choice words

All three flew off

The keyboard didn’t move

I was stuck to it

Tarred and feathered

Glued to the seat

Waiting for permission

To believe.