My dad loved to tell a tale of his reckless childhood days,
how he used to scale the walls of big shops like TJs.
on the corner he would wait for the ma of Frankie Vaughn,
who would call him in to clean her grate, every sunday morn.
He said he was a boxer, at the stadium he did fight,
a 5ft flyweight in a cap, not a scary sight!!
"The Northern" was his second home he bore his scars with pride,
but when his dad came home from the docks, he would always run and hide.
His mam cleaned steps in town to make ends meet,
Til those stuck-up workers pushed her out of the way with their feet.
He joined the RAF at sweet 16 to late to join the war.
The Berlin airlifts what he did, never forgot what he saw.
He loved his home town Liverpool, and if he was here with me today,
i know he would be the first to say to all of you,"Have a great 800 birthday"