Beehives and ponytails, skirts below the knees
High collars, low necks, designed for all to see
We were cool and calculating
With talc and sweet perfume
Us women eyed the men up
As they lined along the room.
They had drapes with velvet collars
Pink socks and sky-blue jeans
Sideburns, D.A’s all trying to look mean
Brylcream and old spice
Shoes with pointed toes, the sharing of a woodbine
In the good-club clothes.
The dancers and the chancers
Well-heeled and the boozers
Tappers and the scrappers
The winners and the losers
The sound of the Showband
Kicking off the night
The style and all the the colours
Had us wild with delight
The music it was magic
It was bouncing off the walls
Covering us with dreams
But no one crossed the hall.
I couldn’t keep my feet still
They were playing all the tunes
I saved all week to be here
And the night it could be ruined
Whispering and nudging with my friend
The voice of doom
Like who on earth amongst them
Would be first to cross the room.
Up steps the local hero
Be-bop brains and balls
And duck-walks with a fag lit
Towards us girls across the hall
I hope he makes it, he’s a loser
He doesn’t stand a chance
Then the looks of admiration
As his choice got up to dance
His feet were fast, his hands were sure
They were putting on some show
The rest just flooded cross the floor
To give us girls a go.
Fast songs, slow songs
The Showband played them all
The dim lights and the crowd and the craic
We had a ball.
The band then called for ladies choice
So I crossed the floor alone
To a big lad that I fancied
‘Cause I knew he’d walk me home
Too soon they played the last dance
We were all up on the floor
When I saw a fellow duck-walk
On his own, out through the door.
The dancers and the chancers
Movers and the groovers
Shy-boys and the smilers
The winners and the losers
Our hopes and aspirations
That night were built on zero
Until the classic walk
Of the dancehall’s Local Hero.