'Touchingly Sentimental Booby'
Death Bed
Life snatches your wallet, but money is blind
Free moments from past that I love to rewind
Such rays mean the world and are stored in my heart
Will be last thoughts I have when it’s time to depart
Short sighted can’t spot this, though may have money
For without single penny I am richer than thee
When I conjure these visions inspiration they lend
To me, a most poignant and valuable friend
The heroic Carra with cramps Istanbul
‘We are the champions’ with Wembley full
Freddie in victory, Brett Lee he consoled
Kelly Holmes’ reaction when winning her gold
That break from the Hurricane, such bottle and flair
The wildcard Goran after years of despair
Such passion from Psycho in spot-kick relief
‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ giving Red Men belief
The fight from Nadal when his back's to the wall
First time I had honour of seeing The Fall
Charisma of Whirlwind 'midst heartbreak and pain
These pictures I’ll call on again and again
Companions of mine when on death bed I’ll lie
With a smile on my face and a tear in my eye
For you are what matters and reason Earth turns
Like the Hillsborough flame your spirit now burns
Salford Love
“I can still remember when your city smelled exciting
I still get a whiff of that aroma now and then
Burglary and fireworks, the skies they were alighting
Accidents and lager cans and thinking on the train”
Roaming charming Salford, with your arm tight to mine
Felt alive at weekends but dead the rest of time
Beauty in your swan neck, your voice, arse, soft snores
Ballerina ankles and those silky sexy drawers
Starving freezing Salford but contented on the bus
Seemed like Ewan MacColl had dreamed his lyrics just for us
Living for your eyes, sensing from a mile
‘Dirty Old Town’ will always make me raise a smile
Came the dulling aching pain,
Left your city in the rain
A single rolling tear
Showed love and loss upon a train
Then last week a dear present
Friends with her from Salford Crescent
Now feeling much less hollow
As the Happy Prince and Swallow
“In the late 19th century, psychotherapist Sigmund Freud developed a theory that the content of dreams is driven by unconscious wish fulfilment. Freud called dreams the 'royal road to the unconscious'”
Cruel Dream
At 8 I dreamt the cruellest dream
I had the shirt of World Cup team
My friends in class wore it with pride
Strip Gazza kissed hard as he cried
That pearl-white Umbro kit was mine
Three-lions crest, striped-neck divine
And in that dream it fit so well
When I awoke a tear fell
At 13 she was in my arms
Best girl from school lost in my charms
Peculiar that this could be
In school she’d never noticed me
I’d lugged her bags the whole way home
And to her lips was set to roam
But as my heart was poised to sing
In distance heard an alarm clock ring
Last night in sleep I saw him there
Each face line, combed-back blade of hair
His hazel eyes twinkled with joy
He sang Nat King Cole’s ‘Nature Boy’
And now awake it takes a while
To know I’ll never see that smile
Was with Grandad an hour ago
Don’t need Freud to say I miss him so
From time to time these dreams come round
A crueller life-trick I’ve yet found
As penny drops that next morning
Sense something’s just died deep within
So hard to just dust yourself down
When vivid dreams make you the clown
Free pass to heaven so soon locked out
Like a water mirage in a desert drought
Boundary Park
Egg carton sky spews rain that soaks
Where chill invades all gloves and cloaks
A rustic scene, northern decay
Is where Oldham Athletic play
Three tired stands and one brick wall
On building site they play football
Once fifty thousand fans did cram
Not 10 per cent now give a damn
Steady decline from glory days
Of Royle’s men and class displays
And fine cup runs with cult heroes
These memories seem a lifetime ago
Irwin, Bunn, and Rick Holden,
The Bovis era was golden
Barrett, Halle, Sharp, Henry
And then the king, Andy Richie
Four thousand fools now suffer dross
Morgue atmosphere and one-nil loss
The swirling rain distracts my eye
Highlight of game was half-time pie
But should these clubs ever wind up bust
In a weird way I’d miss the rust
Such history and old school charm
Must be preserved, or game’s done harm
Heart Of The Matter
The Lord above never changed my ways
No government ever shaped my days
Compass for life pumped alone inside
Only your non-rules did I stand beside
Conquered amidst your vice-like grip
You charged my soul but at times you’d ship
My thoughts and senses to Timbuktu
Still I knew I’d always follow you
Often quiet for days on end
Life meandered then without you, friend
For without compass I could not tell
My North from South, Heaven from Hell
Mere oxygen was the least you’d give
Your hope and love coaxed me to live
Though led me down many darkened streets
You foretold life’s beauty with your faster beats
Sprint on through strong winds
March on when it rains
Only listen to the one
Who circulates your veins
GAY MEADOW
Spied Salop’s pride on Riverside just left of half way line
On terrace stood, where Grandad would see Arthur Rowley shine
Blue-Amber heaven by River Severn was sacred stage for show
So raise a beer and shed a tear for bulldozed Gay Meadow
Hit ‘Prince of Wales’, then Coleham ales on route up to the ground
Get Wakeman chips, Hill’s betting slips, match programme just a pound
Bovrils, crisp bags, smelt funny fags whilst ploughing through the crowd
Traditional ground, with vibrant sound, today not half as loud
Where Shrewsbury played and names were made for 97 years
Such ups and downs, cheers, frowns, the hopes, the dreams the fears
The chants, the rants, the roars, applause, and Tina’s pre-match call
And coracle Fred retrieved swans head whilst tracking down lost ball
In second tier we’d oft strike fear into the giant sides
This fortress saw, Chelsea and more swept up in Salop tides
The Boro, Hammers, Toon all came and left with a defeat
Those 80’s day’s, vintage displays with Turner were a treat
In 94 we wiped the floor and cruised division 3
Fred Davies side wore shirt with pride and marched to victory
Walton showed class, Zico could pass, Chris Withe did chicken jig
While Tommy lynch never gave an inch, Spink’s leg had meat off pig!
Oggy, Bates, Mcnally too, all wore the amber and the blue
Kelly, Griffiths, Shaw and Hart, Mcginlay always looked the part
Pountney, King and Mickey Brown, were stalwarts who excelled for Town
Biggins, Lyne, Zimmers and Lowe disciples of Old Gay Meadow
TENDER PAWS
How blessed were we, to love Jerry?
Our one with tender paws
Never greedy, humour quirky
Rough tongue but gentle claws
Educated pallet, with a nose to match it
Knew her cheese board more than me
One of a kind, individual mind
Jewell in Gold family
Eccentricity, hallmark of she
One off in every way
Tripped on minties but scared of bees
With 'Observer' loved a play
But the greatest thing, to our house she'd bring
For what we all adored
Was when she rose and was YOU she chose
To be graced by tender paws
Emma and Mal
I
In Marble Arch he met the brut(e)
Ale Tankard met the champagne flute
Yet minor discrepancies could not spoil
The day Noel Fielding met Jim Royle She loved his laugh, he loved her eyes
Both shared a mutual lust for pies
Long walks, drunk talks, extravagant ways
The guaranteed five annual holidays
With Prague's pilsner, Tuscan bruschetta,
Rome's carbonara's and Corfu feta
Came poker, whist, snap, bridge, gin-rummy
When Maloney lost, he spat his dummy
Yet despite such tantrums, the odd tea cup flung
An ill-fated trip to Hyde Park seeing Neil Young
Less washing up, more Famous Grouse
They bought a cat , a ring , a house!
And today, I for one will celebrate
My sister wedding her best mate
For my previous words were sheer baloney
So raise a tankard or a flute
To this marvellous pair
Matt and Emma Maloney
'WALSALL FOOD BANK'
This food bank is a sparking place
Restores my faith in the human race
It's no palace and the decors old
But these workers hearts are paved with gold
I marvel at the volunteers
As days are bleak and Christmas nears
For each of them light up this scene
Such kindness in a world so mean
Big John gives ALL a Christmas card
Small token but when times are hard
It means the world, 'For me?' I hear
A desperate man holds back a tear
His weary eyes transform and shine
Revert back to a childhood time
A place of stockings, sprouts, minced pies
A tear now leaves this poor soul's eyes
But all too soon his eyes re-glaze
His blissful scene cruelly erased
By a lonely, starved reality
Jack frost his Christmas company
The sweetest tear I ever saw
Fell on the Walsall Food-Bank floor
Three bags of food against a world SO hard
Three bags of food..... and a Christmas card
‘WEEPING IN 4 LANGUAGES’[1]
At home and in ‘awake dream’[2]
On phone in bold, ‘HAVE YE SEEN?’….
‘REST IN PEACE YOUR MUSIC SCENE!!’
I said ‘what d’ ya mean? What’s it mean! WHAT’S IT MEAN??!!’[3]
On ‘tragic lantern’[4] nightmare see
The ‘Jew on a motorbike’[5] hit a tree
‘A Figure Walks’[6] alas no more
The ‘Hip Priest’[7]clubbed with a ‘2 by 4!’[8]
So ‘I didn’t eat the weekend’[9]
Peel session 3 my go-to friend
Just ‘lived off snacks…potatoes in packs’[10]
'Bulls-blood wine' and panic attacks
No tears left Monday morning, and I think I’ll cut my ears off…
The torture their causing me
Tuned into wireless AM show
‘Heard lickspittle southerners’[11] voice I know
He was playing a ‘hideous replica’[12]
And I had to reach for a bucket ‘uhhhhh’[13]
Today ‘y’see, I get no kick’s anymore!’[14]
From deadbeat life without The Fall
The other bands depress at will
Sadly ‘the cure was in no pill’[15]
For ‘the best groups advertise the least’[16]
66 disciples and one Hip Priest
Who hired and fired, was cryptically inspired
Had brain so ‘totally (uniquely) wired’[17]
His like will not be seen again
Rewrote the Law with ‘slang truth'[18] pen
Left genius lyrical legacy
57-18, Smith…Mark E
1] ‘Tempo House’
[2] ‘Lie Dream of a Casino Soul’
[3] ‘New Puritan’ (Peel Session)
[4] ‘A lot of Wind’
[5] ‘Garden’
[6] ‘A Figure Walks’
[7] ‘Hip Priest’
[8] ‘2 x 4’
[9] ‘Lie Dream of a Casino Soul’
[10] ‘Crap Rap/Like to Blow’
[11] ‘Smile’
[12] ‘Impression of J Temperance’
[13] Mark E Smith’
[14] ‘Jawbone and the air rifle’
[15] ‘Athlete Cured’
[16] ‘Garden’
[17] Totally Wired
[18] ‘Room to Live (Album)’
OUR DAD
1949 - Present
We’ll never say farewell, you’re forever by our sides
Though our ship gets tossed about and endures life’s vicious tides
Your spirit soothes the evil storms and steers us to the bay
Of a tranquil, golden paradise, where besides you we can lay
In life as well as death, in the present, future, past
Your love guides all our voyages, your heart etched to our mast
The jaws of sharks are blunted, the pirates’ poison weak
With rum we’ll toast we knew you and then we’ll hear you speak
When scurvy led to cancer and our ship was stuck in mud
We saw the courage in your eyes when spitting out the blood
We see a handsome face now when we look towards the sun
We see a man who mastered life before his race was run
Now when the skies a bruise and there appears to be no hope
Dock at 'Peaceful Harbour' with their everlasting rope
For they are even nearer, though in body they’re away
And tell them that you love them as the sun sets in the bay
