The Woodville Halls Soul Boys

Soon after I’d paid

My sixty

Or seventy pence,

I found myself

In what I thought

Was a miniature London.

I saw girls

In chandelier earrings,

In stiletto heels,

Wearing evening


Which contrasted with

The bizarre

Hair colours

They favoured:

Jet black

Or bleach blonde,

With flashes of

Red, purple

Or green.

Some wore large

Bow ties,

Others unceremoniously


Their school ties

Round their


Eye make-up

Was exaggerated.

The boys all had

Short hair,

Wore mohair sweaters,

Thin ties,


Peg-top trousers

And winklepicker shoes.

A band playing

Raw street rock

At a frantic speed

Came to a sudden,

Violent climax...

Melodic, rhythmic,

Highly danceable

Soul music

Was now beginning

To fill the hall,

With another group

Of short-haired youths...

Smoother, more elegant,

Less menacing

Than the previous ones.

These well-dressed

Street boys

Wore well-pressed pegs

Of red or blue...

They pirouetted

And posed...

Pirouetted and posed.

This poem is about: 
My community


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