The 120 Club by Dek Grant

The Rawling's clan is famous, mystical and hip

Their parties are synonymous with “really letting rip”

The fridge is always piled high, the snacks they keep on coming

The “sounds” blast 90 decibels, to set your voice a-humming

At ten-past-twelve you’ll find us, still laughing like a drain

Drinking, smoking, hanging loose, bass turned up to full gain

Then some poor sod reminds us, time for work in a short while

“Fuck it” shouts Rawling and cracks a Guiness and a smile

On days off you can find them, green fingers on the lawn

Weeding, digging, lawnmower going, and all well before dawn

Once finished with the clear up plan, Anne pops off to the shops

Fags and Brandy, snacks and dips, Guiness and alcopops

On the early shift, on days gone by, an early morning call

The Capri would roar and rev and bang, awake would be us all

“Dad, what was that?” Calum would say, “it sounded just like thunder”

“Don’t worry lad I’ll sort it out, I’ll put the bastard six foot under”

A handy man is Pete the lad, great with all tools of the trade

Fixes anything good as new, just like it was first made

On darker times though, Anne an me stood and cowered in awe

Our ears did ring with manic chants of “Pass the fucking saw!”

Take the time my tyre blew out, on pushbike none the less

A call to Marj with cries of “Get Rawling to come sort this mess”

My bike he twisted and crammed and rammed and forced into his boot

My bike and I both agreed “Fuck that, next time it’s home on foot”

Keen shoppers are the Rawlings, to Tesco twice a day

Buying things they never use, to keep the neighbour’s points at bay

But alas there is a problem, to match Marj’s points is hard

Dek has fixed it so the Rawling’s points go straight onto their card

A problem with the pipes has arisen, bringing gloom to 118

Vibrating and thumping, sustained and raw, nightly just before eight

I listened carefully to the din last night, and then I understood

That git next door is at it again, bloody practicing with Gertrude

So I send this ode to all you folks with neighbours “old and quiet”

No antics, parties, DIY, loud music or the yearly riot

You don’t know what you are missing, we love it yes we do

Cause we are part of that great big club they call “120 Crew”