Hands in pockets, walking always walking,

Being a boy. Never expect the few cars

That pass to pull up. Posh folk had cars.

Imagining the future: more than John Lennon,

More than Imagine, more than Working Class

Hero. Happiness awaits under the weekend

Sun. Meanwhile I continuously frown.  Sometimes, I could even afford stuff displayed

On market stalls. Look at the girls at the swimming

Baths. See them look at me. Feel the thrill  inside.

Count my money slowly

Got to get it right. Most had more than me, naturally.

As the market stalls closed and I looked around 

Knew no small town girl'd ever be mine. 

So soon, in London Town, fell in love, lost the frown; didn't mess around.