The Morning My Dad Had Breakfast With Elvis Poem by Allan James Saywell

I was quite young
a mere slip of a boy
it was 1957
In lismore, new south wales
The radio was playing quiet music
Dads music
Dad was ready to eat
An Aussie breakfast
Weetbix sausage and egg
In a small country town
Then Elvis started to sing
It seemed like dad was eating in time
To the music of the king
I didn, t think dad could eat that fast
Or with such lack of class
I remained quite calm
Though inclined to move and twitch
I sat waiting for the song to end
Fascinated with my dads eating display
finally, every body lets rock
Dancing to the jailhouse rock
dancing to the jailhouse rock
I managed a look at my father
He said, make sure Elvis is not invited
For breakfast tomorrow son