Goodbye Tony Meehan

Who noticed you
Packing up your kit
Stowing it in the back
Of the cold, black van
Leaving the town for good
And no return gig?

It seems the world sat watching
And waiting for the final whistle
Of extra time
In the George Best game

Not for you
A noisy farewell
One minute of wild, rapturous drumming
At the Brixton Academy

But I shed a private tear
For my lost youth
When you stepped out of the shadows
When life had a simpler four four beat
And your paradiddles dazzled

You were the stylist
The silhouette in the yellow spotlight
The star
And because of you and Jet and Hank and Bruce
I bought my first guitar