It was merely a few years ago,

in a seaside Bungalow

that of wolves of different ages combined forces that were strong. 

It was quick and unexpected,

but a band was there erected.

To the joy of all their people who had craved it for so long.

Stiff Richards they were named and they quickly staked their claim.

Word spread thick and rapid that the Stiffs were on their way.

Like a bunyip rising from a billabong, they emerged with a bag full of killer songs.

With a fresh sound from Rye and a twinkle in their eye, the band were here to stay.

Earth, wind, water and party.

Like a thick beef stew their music is hearty.

It captivates like a beautiful sunrise. 

If you thought prawns go off in the sun, just wait until you get a load of these guys.

So when you’re heading to the stage and your wracking your brain about the monstrous sound in the air. 

When your blood starts pumping and your hands begin the rubbing of the tingling of your upstanding arm hair.

It’s an intimidating sound when it strikes to the ground but there’s no need to cower in fear.

They’re out of the cage so get down to the stage and join the stiffs for a beer. 

Just a few boys from the beach and good vibes they preach. 

Genuine, and smellier than a bag of pilchards.

You call them your own. Let’s welcome them home. It’s the return of the mighty Stiff Richards.