Scouser’s everywhere.


Scouser’s here Scouser’s there Scouser’s every ‘insert profanity’ where.
So Scouser’s always take a dare, and this one’s hand is in the air, and why?
To beam a simple Mersey wave to all our kin worldwide, to those that travelled far and stayed yet still burn with scouse pride.

The honoraries, the adopted, the far relations too,
the next generation down under, who still side red and blue.
A bloodline that can’t be forgotten, a pride that just won’t fall,
wherever you are in lands near or far, we’ll never forget you at all.

We’re celebrating back in the homeland, its 800 years to the day.
We’re very bohemian apparently now but I won’t swap tea bags for latté.
The pigeons now all fly with easy jet. It’s easier and cheaper they say.
The seagulls don’t land on the river, they have apartments overlooking the bay.

Dickie Lewis is now Richard Louie, the ferries are like the royal yacht
Anne Summers is now on Whitechapel, I tend to go pass there a lot.
Radio city moved up in the tower, the museum’s lost all of its trains,
We’ve got ghosts at the bottom of bold street, Tom Slemen will tell you their names.

We’ve got more night clubs than Ibiza, at night you can see us from space,
We’re Paris’ Champs-Elysées, just with students all over the place.
The Albert Dock rats now have dinghy’s and eat cordon bleu cuisine
we all sit down at the footy these days, those poor players aren’t making a bean.

Our future is brighter than orange, so we will remember you all,
we’ll look down to the Mersey river, and smile,
when the ferry crushes tyres on the pier head wall.

By Gary Watson