- Sat Mar 21, 2015 11:23 pm
#4806
The Cellar was a coffee bar in Windsor during the nineteen- sixties. The place to go if you were a rocker. Here's how I remember it.
Leather jacket zipped up tight,
a white silk scarf keeps the chill from my face,
Lower half clad in blue denim jeans
and boots with sea socks turned over the top, just looks right.
Jet style helmet (now called open face) will flatten hair that took a while to comb into shape.
Start the bike.
I'm meeting with my mates tonight.
Off I go, not in a hurry,
don't want to make my poor mum worry.
Once out of sight I'll give it throttle,
So all can see I've got some bottle.
Footrests spark on roundabout,
in third gear, not quite flat out.
Across the common, far too fast.
There's livestock here, put out to grass.
Down Eton High Street, what a roar,
I'll soon be at The Cellars door,
with bikes parked up beside the Thames
the Triumphs, Nortons, rare B.M.s
Studs and chains adorning clothing.
The older generation loathing.
"We fought six years of war for you,"
"you've no idea what we've been through."
Leather jacket zipped up tight,
a white silk scarf keeps the chill from my face,
Lower half clad in blue denim jeans
and boots with sea socks turned over the top, just looks right.
Jet style helmet (now called open face) will flatten hair that took a while to comb into shape.
Start the bike.
I'm meeting with my mates tonight.
Off I go, not in a hurry,
don't want to make my poor mum worry.
Once out of sight I'll give it throttle,
So all can see I've got some bottle.
Footrests spark on roundabout,
in third gear, not quite flat out.
Across the common, far too fast.
There's livestock here, put out to grass.
Down Eton High Street, what a roar,
I'll soon be at The Cellars door,
with bikes parked up beside the Thames
the Triumphs, Nortons, rare B.M.s
Studs and chains adorning clothing.
The older generation loathing.
"We fought six years of war for you,"
"you've no idea what we've been through."
