The tickets for the show were all sold out,

the biggest crowd since Woodstock – so they said,

I tried to still the nagging twinge of doubt

and banished thoughts of failure from my head.

A dozen roadies set up all our gear,

they tuned the strings and checked the sound as well,

I tried my microphone – so crisp and clear,

my voice rang out just like a mission bell.

The drummer watched as sound men tweaked his kit,

five cymbals, double bass and triple snare,

it looked like it was dying to be hit,

with cowbells, chimes and tom toms everywhere.

The light show guru turned up – what a bloke,

he sprayed the stage with sixty types of light,

gold lasers cut like scimitars through smoke,

the crowd would get its money’s worth tonight.

A roadie grabbed the lead guitar and strummed,

the sound was awesome – loud as you can get,

as stacks of speakers barked and slave amps hummed,

the crew chief then declared that we were set.

I had my pick of groupies – gorgeous chicks,

paraded up against a backstage wall,

I’d narrowed down the choice to five or six,

but couldn’t choose one, so I had them all.

I ran on stage, a new wave teenage Lord,

the crowd went ape and screamed like anything,

the keyboard player crashed a power chord,

I opened up my mouth, began to sing.

We only played a minute – then they booed,

some hoodlums climbed the left side speaker stack,

they started screaming insults, throwing food,

and led a rolling chant of “Money Back!”

Security deserted us – the bums,

the audience went mad – we ran in fear,

they smashed our new guitars and trashed the drums,

and even drank our special stock of beer.

We cowered in a backstage cubbyhole,

and learned a crucial lesson on that day:

to be a big success in rock and roll

before you get on stage –learn how to play!

 more of my FUNNY POEMS here