Sergeant Pepper
The druggy drone of sitar and
tamboura on the lawn
A fuzzy stab of rubber band guitar
Would wake a sleeping schoolboy
in that heady post-war dawn
As village fete met Marrakesh bazaar
Then for a while the town went mad
With boys in paisley shirts
Velvet jackets, highwayman lapels
And girls who sashayed round
In Khol-rimmed eyes and hippy skirts
Dancing to imaginary bells
And Sgt Pepper, out that week
On Parlophone black wax
With strawberry Mivvi-coloured inner sleeve
Devoid of any spaces in the grooves
between the tracks
Was stranger than a pop fan could conceive
It spilled a cornucopia
Of people, places, plots
And saturated airwaves, parties, halls
It changed the face of something
And they never fathomed what
But all those Beatle posters stayed on walls
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