All dress up in our best Togs
Food aplenty, on large platters
The hall, nice enough
Well, thought I, ‘this should all go well
After all, it’s the company that matters’.
Family, I’ve known for years
Friends, we’ve known for decades
Girls, with babies, I’d not met before
Older children running, and screaming
Like ballistic little live hand grenades.
But the noise, the noise, exploded
When the DJs began, all conversation was stilted
Their litany of modern music tripe
Flashing lights where melody refused to attend
My love of music, by the minute, wilted.
Valiantly, I tried to read, body language and lips
When not sure, how to respond;
I shrugged my shoulders, and cupped my ears
But words escaped, like passing ships
Clearly that music was not for liking, by one of my years.
By nine that night, my nerves were fried
Try as hard as I could
Disappointment and resentment, I could not hide
Youngsters, were waving their arm and wriggling their hips
Later, “the evening was good” I lied!
Why, Oh why, do modern kids
Feel deafening rubbish, is enjoyable
I’m certain, everyone would have liked;
A waltz or a foxtrot – perhaps to “Glen Miller”
Not the crap I thought, an enjoyment killer.
Perhaps I am grumpy, have no time for such trash
But I don’t care, when sounds are abominated
Even if young “twerps” want to ‘line dance’
I’ll smoulder, and hunch my shoulders and admit
I’m a Grumpy Old Man.