Liverpool on the Irish sea
Tuebrook, Toxteth and Wavertree
Home of the beatles and full Mersey beats
and yummy scouse is no mean feats
Baby beetroot served on top
and when it rains its no mean flop
you can visit museums or travel abroad
from railway or airport to the norwegian fjord
City of culture for two thousand and eight
why not have the day here or more with your mate
book on national express or take a fast train
and sing sounds of liverpool with a merry refrain
it's the home of 3 graces who welcome you home
and all will be proved with google chrome

Mersey Ferry, Mersey Ferry,
Go across the sea,
Take them a Daffodil,
Take them an Iris,
Tell them I love them
And tell them I care
Return them back safely
And you shall be queens
So, go bring my loved ones
Back home to me

copyright/all rights reserved Joe Fogg 2011

When the sun sets on the Mersey bank,
And the clouds have gone to sleep,
When the promenade falls quiet and still,
The Mersey fairies peep,

When the tide has left for fairer shores,
And the boats are at their berth,
When the moon shimmers on the silvery bed,
They appear from the ancient earth,

Like fireflies beneath the dock,
They search through fields of mud,
Finding objects to take back home,
Like bottle tops and wood,

They flutter on the river breeze,
They're carried to the wreck,
They stay and play here for a while,
Throwing pebbles from the deck,

Whisping in and out of trees,
And flying up the street,
They stop outside a cottage door,
And wipe their muddy feet,

They creep in through the broken frame,
Into the cottage mill,
The smell of burning coal is strong,
They settle on the sill,

They warm their fragile bodies,
And shake about their wings,
Their comforts interrupted,
By an angelic voice that sings,

Upstairs there is a little girl,
Who combs her locks so long,
They watch with eyes of gold and green,
As she continues with her song,

The sprites see their reflection,
In the looking glass afoot,
They see their muddy faces,
Their clothing full of soot,

They scarper pretty quickly,
And cause a noisy thud,
They whisp and fly there way back home,
There home beneath the mud.

Mud is good,
Its dead good mud,
It's in me blood,
But where not understood,
Us people of mud,
In the shadow of a gas tank and born on a Mersey bank, I lived on cobbled streets dark and dank,
I played on a ship that sank, and for anything else I wouldn’t thank....... you
On king street docks, girls in cheap frocks, curly locks, time tocks, the boat rocks,
The tanyard smell made life hell for all that dwell, under the bridge,
In Garston L19, it’s the scene, its clean, it’s where I’ve been, it’s not obscene or green, if you know what I mean.
Its community security sincerity and every other word that ends with erity,
But it’s fallen apart,
Don’t lose heart.
I go into town when I’m down, it clears me frown,
I don’t go in me jarmies or me dressin gown,
There’s men with round bellies, toddlers in wellies,
Posh ladies gather in their marks and spencer swagger,
There’s scouse brow teens, sunbed queens,
Hunks and punks, lonely drunks,
Suits in boots forgetting their roots and hens in *****,
Big issue sellers, statue fellas holding golf umbrellas,
Coz of all the rain,
But it’s all good, coz we come from mud,
Let’s cheer, why?
Coz I’m here,
I’m me, me names T, and me hubbys P me best friends she..... lagh,
I like coffee and toffee and Roger Mcgoughy,
I like statistics logistics eye shadow and lipsticks,
I like bags and wags and cigarette ****, but not beer,
I’m fine on wine if I take me time,
I don’t do a line, unless I’m hanging me washing on it,
I work in a bar, not far, I don’t drive a car, and I don’t say Lar or kid or lad or lid or mar,
I’m proud and loud, don’t live on a cloud, and I don’t follow the crowd,
I’m a mum to some, I’ve got a big round ***, but I’m me you see,
I’m not square, I dye me hair, I swear but you can take me anywhere,
Coz I care,
I’m good,
I’m mud; it’s in me blood,
Understood

By Christina Ford

First Kiss (Manchester to Miami)

Rachel was a 19 year old student who attended the
Royal Northern College of Music, located in Manchester UK.
Manchester was considered the arts, media, higher education
and commerce mecca of north central England. Bordered by the  
Cheshire plain to the south, and the Pennines mountain range
to the north and east. The famous River Mersey ran along the
southern side of Manchester. Rachel was packing for winter
holiday with some of her classmates, to the warm beaches of
Miami Florida, for a week long stay in the sun, far from the
often dreary weather that settled over the UK this time of year.  
Not only was Rachel looking forward to the warm weather and
sunny skies but she was looking forward to meeting up with Daniel.

Daniel was a 40 something musician, beach bartender, handyman,
who lived just outside of Miami. They had met on a poetry website
seven months prior, and had established a warm friendship.
They communicated almost daily threw emails, chat sites
and through poetry exchanges. Their friendship had become
more romantic in the last month or so, talking that silly love talk
that new lovers used, and Rachel finished off every meeting with the
initials AKTY at the end. AKTY stood for angel kisses to you,
as Daniel liked to refer to her as his angel. they both were very
excited about the chance to see each other, face to face.

Rachel knew that the majority of Daniels poetry was slanted
toward the romance side, and she knew from their conversations
that he seemed to be educated, gentle and romantic. She was,
they were, both looking forward to spending an evening together,
holding hands,caressing each other, looking into each others eyes,
and..... that first kiss. Kiss kiss kiss kiss

hard rock guitars, lights and smoke

Kiss, that first kiss, this is what, loves all about    
kiss, your sweet kiss, makes me go crazy, scream and shout
your kiss, that angel kiss, can't live with out it, you drive me mad
one kiss, just one kiss, from your sweet lips, blows my mind real bad

don't know how I got by before you
never want to try it no never again
my darlin angel I adore you,

since I met you you know i've been

crazy, I've gone crazy, just can't get enuff, of you sweet baby
dreaming, got me dreaming, every night baby, I don't mean maybe
every kiss, like your first kiss, sets me ablaze, you know it takes me higher
another kiss, I want another kiss, turn the flames up like a funeral pyre  

don't wanna try to get along without you
never want to try it no never again
my darlin angel I adore you,
since I met you been waiting for that first kiss

Gomer LePoet

My sister boasted to me one night in a Liverpool pub
She had *** with a couple of coppers down the Mersey Tunnel.
'You're nothing bit a fat slapper' I scolded her,
As she examined the selfie I had taken
Just a few moments earlier of me
And her best friend up against the ladies' bog door.
"Good likeness, innit?" I commented and the
She farted stentoriously in surprise and,
The follow-through oozed down her dimpled thigh.

Born in Beverley, to Holme on spalding Moor
Leven and Knaresborough opened up the door
Ripon was the first time to leave my home so true
Parents to New Zealand Boo hoo Boo hoo Boo hoo
Auckland to Tauranga and finally home to stay
Southport and York not quite montego bay
on to the edge of the world at kingston upon Hull
before the move to Bridlington to live a life so full
and then the move that made all moves Liverpool it was
I love the life of the mersey it really is the boss
I'm so made up to feel the love and life of the Mersey beat
Tuebrook Toxteth and wavertree are places I've moved my feet
I am really privilaged to see the windows of the world
from Singapore and Scotland and Australia's fields of gold
I've been to Canada, America and Luxemburg as well
The windows of the world in a small nut shell

sing it like the beatles  like they used to do
with that mersey sound that everybody knew
singing in the cavern on saturday
singing rock n roll as they played away

ringo was the drummer paul he played the bass
when the weekend came they filled up the place
guitars were george and john to make the band complete
with there famous sound they call the mersey beat.

the flew across the country to the u.s.a
met the many fans  that loved to hear them play
the most famous band of all with there mersey beat
all across the world they wiped them of there feet

sing it like the beatles like they used to do
with that mersey sound that everybody new
with there many hits that reached every chart
they put rock n roll into everybodys heart.

Up to the North
Down to the South
Keep the ships feeding
The big Mersey's mouth

14 big docks
And 19 big stops
Dad's got big hands
He works at the 'Brock'

He's seen Alexandra
And Nelson too
He passes the Princes
On the way to the 'Loo

Jump off at the Sandon
For a bevvy with Joe
Saturday's half day
To the match he will go

The merchants at Toxteth
Are rubbing their hands
There's money in shipping
And at Seaforth Sands

Jump off at Pier Head
If yer wearing a shirt
Stay on till Herculaneum
To get covered in dirt

The EMUs keeping rolling
From morning til night
Our dockers umbrella
What a beautiful sight

copyright/all rights reserved Joe Fogg 2011

The distant laughter broken by the waves of the Mersey is rushing through my ears,
The barbeque smells of burning lunches fill my eyes with salty tears,
Children's laughter carries along the promenade straight,
Puppy dogs playing at the old rusted gate,
This is the sound of my summer,
Teens on skateboards scratch down the path and weave,
Mobile phones beeping as the sun begins to breathe,
Cyclists whizzing by in a world of their own,
Kites flying high with excitement like they've never been flown,
This is the sound if my summer,
Gulls screeching loudly but somehow in tune,
Girls watching boys, their wavy hair they plume,
The breeze carries music from north to north west,
Sometimes getting lost under conversations and jest,
This is the sound of my summer,
Waves trickle gently onto the flats of mud,
A place where my ancestors once had stood,
No footprints linger on the darkened rich bank,
Just the waves trickling gently around the ship that once sank,
This is the sound of my summer,
As the evening drawers near a silence will fall,
The promenade will empty and the shadows stand tall,
The Mersey will settle to a soft and gentle flow,
The birds bring the night as the sun prepares to go,
This is the sound of my summer.

Fifty years ago this week
Sgt. Pepper he began to speak
Hidden deep just like a motley fool
Inside four boys from Liverpool

It took four lads as inspiration
to bring hope to a crying nation
After November's assassination
They grabbed us...we held on

John, Paul, George and Ringo
on Ed's Sunday Show
We sat back and watched them go
They grabbed us...we held on

They came and held the hand
Of a still in mourning land
A little skiffle band
They grabbed us...we held on

We were brought back from the dark side
We were on a rock and roll ride
With four young lads from Mersey Side
They grabbed us...we held on

They grabbed our hearts and souls
They expanded musics goals
They all had different roles
they grabbed us...we held on

In times...things were changing
The band was re-arranging
No more tours were staging
They grabbed us...we held on

Soon, they all went on their way
McCartney sang "Another Day"
John, he had a lot to say
George and Ringo...just played on

John was shot at decades start
It shocked the world and broke apart
Those who held him in our heart
The Beatles were no more

George died too, all things must pass
He always had a silent class
The parts aren't greater than the mass
The Beatles were no more

Is there anyone out in the land
Who will come and take us by the hand
I hope that you will understand
They grabbed us...we held on

is different for each meandering
but arises unbidden though there
must be a prompt a spring a welling-
up that begins to trickle down the page
as the current courses down this arm
to fingertips grippimg the pen lightly
but firm enough to make the marks
and trickle a stream to slake again
my thirst.  Wyre ? Ribble ? Mersey ?
Thames ? Rhine ? Danube ? Ganges ?
Amazon - yes immense over life as Amazon.

(c) C J Heyworth

i was thinking of the cavern club just the other daywhere in the sixties all the groups would playthere was lots bands who came from miles around  they put it all together and made the mersey soundmy favourite was the beatles in there beatle suitswith there  beatle haircut and winkle picker bootsthere was john and george paul and ringo toothey made lots of songs that everybody knew.there was many others so many i cant namethe beatles were the ones that always had the famethe  music is still around to this very daythe sounds of the sixties will never go away

We've come together
To reach our Mecca
At 10 Mathew Rd.
Blessed by the Beat Les Musique,
Beneath this winding road.
(Son les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble).

Mersey Beat shook the world,
In the beginning,
In the end,
Then across the universe.

I get a feeling
Beneath this burning neon sign,
Proclaiming,
The Cavern.
I imagine
I hear:
I am he
And you are he...
I'm peaking here
Above holy ground.

Don't ask me why
We said the things
We said today.
We've carried that weight,
Said hello and goodbye,
Good morning, good morning,
Good night.
And when I'm down,
And I'm so tired,
And when you needed someone,
We could work it out.
Why worry over yesterday,
Let yesterday
Be.

Hold my hand
As we descend
Thirty-three steps,
And stand again
Like we're seventeen
Before the altar of song.
In this crypt
I'm a child
Buying tickets
For a ride.

Now hold me tight
As the two of us
Twist and twirl and shout.
I'm happy
Just to dance with you.

From this cellar,
Rose sons of man,
To sing and teach
Of love and peace,
And the brotherhood
Of man.

Let's ascend the stairs,
Oh darling,
It's getting better
All the time.
Here comes the sun,
I'll follow.

Before sleep, I hear their ghosts
Across the dark, as the air blues
Into the cold hour
Up there beneath Orion
They trace a glint of water
Locked to the lodestone of their fragile skulls
Their winter mother calling them home
Crying Mersey, Mersey

i was thinking of the cavern club just the other day
where in the nineteen sixties. all the groups would play.
there was lots bands who came from miles around  
they put it all together and made the mersey sound.

my favourite was the beatles in there beatle suits
with there  beatle haircut and winkle picker boots
there was john and george paul and ringo too
they made lots of songs that everybody knew.

there was many others so many i cant name
the beatles were the ones that always had the fame
there  musics still around to this very day
the sounds of the sixties will never go away

one hundred gormleys staring gormlessly out to sea
looking for who knows what at the **** end of the mersey
we cant find a *** to **** in in the midst of the city
but theyll keep searching earnestly for the rest of eternity

trainers?  who the ****
needs new trainers?
i want the sort of music
i can cry to...
          oh...
right...all alclohlics
don't cry genuine
tears...
   well..
hello gay-lord
paedohpile priest
child molly-molly
******! what?
i thought i was told
that crying
over classical
music
   was taboo?
sure, sure, like... me...
    'ere 'ere...
best of a 2 h
screen shot,
not having spet
watching
a washine machine cycle,
or what some people
call, "conspiracy theory"
by, moo'd'ern'
stand'oods...
   what?
oh right... ****...
**** without a samurai
sword agitation,
must be a white thing...
      is that even a...
a...
  an even...
a that...
        a a...
you want to play
this game?
                i keep forgetting
to play it...
but i undermine myself
with a reminder...
   there's genuine
interest
in donning this
****-fest
of the clash,
*** the beatles...
    mersey... come
the thames...
         like i said before...
you can't provide a stable environment
for island dwelling
people...
                 freaks!
     unless...
they are mutually
   exclusionary...
  "off"... their "fellow"...
invading barbarians...
    oh sure...
the native communities changed...
come the 1950s...
but with the european migrantion
from the late 00s...
of the expansion
of the european union?
don't worry...
most of the pollacks left...
you're just left
with the ******* ****
gangs...
no worries!
chill! chill!
what are you getting hot &
bothered about?!
  chill!
i'm no jew,
i'm not existentially..
globak pro...
fugitive...
     the english bird
high up 'n' arms...
protectionist...
while all you want to do...
is **** a
   sydney watson
or a delta goodrem...
bad ******* idea to send off
convicts...
   what?!
who's bewldered playing
a who's who?
do i look like a ******* stalemate
of an englishman?
i need 1980s pop songs!
what?
i'm a sensitive beast
with a lack
for a concern for a sense
of humour!
whar?!
   i don't like
humour,
that doesn't prompt
itself to continue
with a genesis of slap-stick!
you know what
fetish-**** is to me?
tina turner...
  mingling with
   sydney watson....
that's **** to me...
either that...
or... jerking off to
a bronzino...
or some 20th century
apocalyptic nostalgia
of...
  what would never
become
the tinder,
the fb,
       and...
       what i best serve
for the blank
stated waiting
game...

but i'm not even
english!!!!!!

when you're eased
out of a delusion,
finding yourself,
recluse,
with a relief,
bound to the ability,
to extract
an authentic tear.

From' Twopence to Cross the Mersey' we became friends
Finding in each other's soul a companion
And so we trudged, together, pushing the unwieldy pram
Along the streets of Liverpool where the river swam.

Structure, meaning, characterisation, the book had its plan
But we loved dear Helen, little waif from another span.
The waters had their beauty that we could see,
Finding yet another  moment to share a read.



Love Mum ***

Thank you dear Vics for all the good times we had.

i remember when the beatles began there road to fame
everyone around the world new the beatles name
john paul george and ringo they became the band
known around the world each and every land

started at the cavern all those years ago
became an household name everyone would know
with the mersey sound and the mersey beat
makes you wanna shout puttung dancing in your feet

now they are a legend though some have past away
there name will last forever in our hearts will stay
songs of john and paul who had such a gift
songs we will remember that gave the world a lift

I am thinking of moving,
from this country,
from this house,
from this couch,
At least,
At very least, I am a clichéd empty coffee cup,
A lesion on the bone of my own life,
Stopping under Ferris wheel lights,
As it all falls into the Mersey,
And resurfaces, maybe, elsewhere

I think of moving,
In yellow patches of sun,
In marked skin,
In between atomic level emptiness,
At peace,
At ephemeral peace, I am the clichéd busted wheel,
A tyre mark or pock mark on the surface,
Slicing the move East in two,
Drowning in meltwater
Bobbing up through a hole in the ice,
And resurfacing, maybe, elsewhere

I am moving,
through time (or it through me)
through faded dayglo
through a burnt filament,
At last,
At dreaded “and dear last”, I am roots and canopy, clichéd,
A fluttering of fingers in thorns and air,
Stuttering sentences on an empty stage,
Skirting the edge of newly lost continents,
While licking salt from faces and cliff faces,
Moving another ghost somewhere west,
To resurface, elsewhere

maybe