Indeed you can look pure, and who denies
That in the early Sixties you often did?:
Your natural grace and beauty stole our eyes,
Amazed our souls – the goat was once a kid.
In fact, one could describe the Rolling Stones
Of those first years as new romantic bards:
Keats Richards, Shelley Watts and Byron Jones,
Like you, provoked both love and snide canards.
But when you donned the togs of a Yankee jock,
And in some songs inclined the weak to slam,
The role you took was a man of steel or rock –
It seemed you had been bought by Uncle Sam.
I’m pleased to greet you; glad that you were dubbed
By one who by the mean is always snubbed.
Sympathy for Sir MicK
by Michael Peach




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