Song Lyric Sunday: School of Rock

The theme from Jim Adams is songs about School, College, Education, Class, Degree.
The song must contain a reference to the prompt in the title or the lyrics.
If the song does not meet these criteria, please explain why you chose it.


Here’s a bit of Bryan Adams today with the one song in his back catalogue that makes me forgive him for (Everything I Do) I Do It for You.

Released in 1985, Summer of ‘69 only made it to number 42 on the UK charts. But my brother, the old rocker, bought the single. A move he came to regret years later when his three-year-old son fell in love with this record in the summer of ‘99.

Young Sam enjoyed nothing more than posing with a plastic guitar and belting out the lyrics at the top of his voice. But he wasn’t a selfish little diva: he wanted us all to share the moment, which we did, with gusto! Even his dad joined in the fun. Shame the musical gene in our family tree is dormant.

But this song has happy memories of summer barbecues and torturing the neighbours with our dreadful singing. Now please excuse me: I’m off to play some air guitar in the garden.

I got my first real six-string
Bought it at the five-and-dime
Played it till my fingers bled
It was the summer of ’69

Me and some guys from school
Had a band and we tried real hard
Jimmy quit and Jody got married
I shoulda known we’d never get far
Oh when I look back now
That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Ya – I’d always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life

Ain’t no use in complainin’
When you got a job to do
Spent my evenin’s down at the drive-in
And that’s when I met you

Standin’ on your mama’s porch
You told me that you’d wait forever
Oh and when you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life
Back in the summer of ’69

Man we were killin’ time
We were young and restless
We needed to unwind
I guess nothin’ can last forever – forever, no

And now the times are changin’
Look at everything that’s come and gone
Sometimes when I play that old six-string
I think about ya wonder what went wrong

Standin’ on your mama’s porch
You told me it would last forever
Oh the way you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never
Those were the best days of my life

Back in the summer of ’69
It was the summer of ’69
Me and my baby in ’69
It was the summer
It was the summer
Yeah, summer of ’69

Songwriters: Bryan Adams / James Douglas Vallance
© Testatyme Music, Adams Communications Inc.

Discover Prompts: Song

Saw the prompt and the first thing that popped into my head was the thought: music is a flying carpet. Hit with a tsunami of ideas, I settled down to write.

Two minutes later our neighbour called around (observing a 2m social distance): would we like some tomato seedlings?

Yes, we would, and thank you very much. So far, we only have 20 plants growing in yoghurt tubs on the windowsill.

Mrs Neighbour smiled, pointed to a basket at her feet, and explained these have to go in now. Not in pots, but in the ground, and they must be covered at night.

This was not music to my ears.

Cue much faffing about with sieving soil and creating a bed big enough to house 60 plants and then constructing a cloche with wire and ten metres of plastic sheeting.

We got through this ordeal by singing sea shanties, even though I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. But I like music to sing to when gardening.

For housework, I play rock or punk. I need something loud to keep me going.

My musical tastes became fossilised somewhere around the turn of the last century. All the latest modern rhythmic beat combos have passed me by.

Blame this on my formative years spent listening to my family’s elderly collection of vinyl from the 1920s to the 1980s. Hands up who remembers K-TEL and Ronco record companies!

I only have to hear a cheesy 50s pop song, and I am transported to my childhood.

Sunday mornings, helping my mum make our roast lunch and producing apple tart, jam roly-poly, Easter biscuits, Victoria sponges, cakes and crumbles.

We would sing along with the Everly Brothers and Chuck Berry, and scuffle around the kitchen to skiffle. I remember my mother teaching me three things: a rude version of “She Wears Red Feathers,” how to cook and how to jive.

Music takes me back.