(The poem no one is going to ask me to write

celebrating the next royal visit of her majesty

to my home city of Liverpool).

 

 

We`re citizens, Ma`am, of our particular city,

Our own beloved mass of masonry,

And though the stranger may not think it pretty,

We are glad to be

 

We live up here beside our windy river

(The sea drives in and scours us twice a day)

And though sometimes it makes us freeze and shiver

We never let it stop our work or play

 

Our fathers were a mix of mingled peoples,

Scottish, Welsh - raw Irish - country clods.

And all around us half a score of steeples

Worship our differing gods.

 

We breed our share of poets and musicians,

Pop and sonnets, rock and modern verse.

We`re free and, lady, no mere politicians

Ever called us theirs.

 

We boast a lot but, lady, please don`t mind us

Most of what we boast is said in play.

But should the occasion need, be sure you`ll find us,

Loyal…(but in our Liverpudlian way)