There was movement at assembly,
For the word was passed around.
That a note from the Admin. was on its way,
It had reached the lower classes
It was worth five Crispin bars,
And all the "creeps" were waiting for the day.
All the tried and noted jivers.
From the Regions near and far,
Had mustered at the Hostel overnight
For the "hep-cats" love hard jiving,
Where the rock roll records are
And the man-in-charge awaits the fateful night.
There was Morley, who broke his rule
When 2A "cut up rough"
The young man with his hair as white as snow,
But few could jive beside him
When his blood was fairly up.
He'd go wherever HCl would go,
And Jeffrey of the history-co,
Came down to tend a hand.
No better M.C. ever paced the floor
For never "pill" could toss him
While the B-bop blared and banged.
He'd seen junior socials run before.
And one was there a stripling
Twelve or thirteen stone at least.
He was something like a wrestler undersized,
With a touch of North Coast schooling,
Two parts headmaster at least.
And such as are by Heads of High Schools prized.
So Morely set them moving.
He was booming on the wing.
Where the most reluctant dancers take their place,
And he waved his hands in signal.
And he made the rafters ring.
With the volume, as the needle set the pace.
Then they halted for a "moment,"
While he excavated ash,
But they saw their well-loved tuckshop full in view
And they charged from off the dance floor
With a sharp and sudden dash.
As off into the passage-way they flew
Then fast the M.C. followed
With a visage stern and black.
. ,,,It well might make the boldest hold their breath.
They hurried to the dance-floor.
Not a single one was slack
In obedience. but any dip was death.
Then the man from Northern Rivers.
Let the poor "squares" have their chance.
As they waltzed their partners round and gave a cheer,
Towards the waiting ranks increasing
As the jivers missed the dance
Talking Elvis, Steele and Fabian in every car.
And down by Kosciusko
Where the Snowy Hall doth raise,
Its corrugated battlements on high,
Where the air is dear as crystal
And the headlights fairly blaze,
At eleven, neath a cold and frosty sky.
And outside on the asphalt,
Where the parents weekly may,
Prompt and ready, lined up eater for the drive,
Now the '60 Junior Social
Is a household word today,
And the "hep-cats" tell the story of the jive.