The radio would crackle with his banter
When the skies were cold and black
He got me to work on a Monday
When my thoughts were for turning back
He kept me smiling with that Irish brogue
And his tales of Janet and John
When I felt like coming to a halt
He kept me moving on
The letters from his 'other listener'
And various other comments absurd
Music that he knew I'd enjoy
And some that I'd never heard
He steered me into a happy zone
And into waters calmer
With his funny tales about the 'DG'
And Walthamstow Swimmerama
So farewell and bon voyage to Sir Terry
My Monday mornings will never be
Quite the same again without you
I only have podcasts on my MP3
To remind me of the great broadcasts
That you made in the nineties and noughties
That steered me into my fifties
From my thirties and my forties
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem