From Mozart to Metallica,

and Brahms to Barry White,

the gamut of Britannica,

I change it round each night.

 

I close my eyes in ecstasy

when Slowhand plays guitar,

and Louis Armstrong’s legacy

just proves he was a star.

 

Young Elton too, he wasn’t bad,

and he could even sing,

but he was only just a lad

when Elvis was The King.

 

Sometimes I’ll fancy rock and roll

with Buddy, Chuck, and Fats,

but then I segue into soul

with all them Motown cats.

 

Tonight it might be Quo, or Pink,

perhaps the Rolling Stones,

or maybe chilled out with a drink,

enjoying the Ramones.