Sir Rodders

Long before you were Sir

You lorded over the dance floor

at the ‘prince performing

your comb trick between sets

outshining your lanky boss

and his stolen All Star band.

On a summer evening in

the beer garden an apparition

in Carnaby pink. Wadda you think

lads? Always ready to chat

over the pint we bought.

Moving on was the only way you said.

You’ll make it or you’ll die

we said in secret whispers while

you sang …  now you wear it well.