“And all our planes returned safely” he said
And a packed room sat in disbelief
But hung on every word that emanated
From that magical box on the kitchen table.

“We’ve come a long way from the penny paper” he said
And they remembered gathering in Quigley’s house
To hear the National and International news read
From the only paper in the village, for a fortnight.

“In the Name of the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost”, she said
And like a well drilled regiment they dropped
And knelt on bended knee, cap in hand,
And prayed to God at the Angelus bell.

“No news is good news”, the postman always said
And still the hunger grew for any news
That filled ordinary lives with extraordinary images
Of other worlds, a thousand miles away.

“Turn your Radio on” she sang
And they did and filled their minds
With words and music, and Sunday plays
For seventy five years of radio days.