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A wind blew cold at a crossroads,
Midsummer but the trees had no leaves,
A young star had been told of a deal made of gold,
Sign up now, say goodnight to your soul.
A timeless creature from Hades,
With a penchant for catchy and cool,
It touched his dark heart, ‘could be just what I want,’
‘Control of the pop music charts.’
Rogue radio stations all loved it,
Teenagers went wild for the sound,
Risqué and oblique, it had something unique,
An X-factor that dwelt underground.
A wind blew wild at a crossroads,
It moaned for the heart of the blues,
Every Saturday night, bluesmen lost their sole rights,
And the Devil got all the best tunes.
© Joseph G Dawson