Short Butties Poems

The Umbrella

It was a rainy sort
Of afternoon, when I crossed
The bridge didn`t notice 
Half it was missing.
Held on to my brolly when I fell
Parachuted landed on a barge.
They needed a deckhand.

The sea was a black mirror, the cook
Was artistic and pissed we only had
Bacon butties that day
I gave the collapsible canopy to the first mate
It was green and covered
In seagull droppings...

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I am a displaced Scouser,
Who comes from Bootle way,
And no matter where I go,
A Scouser will I stay.

I eat my chips on Butties,
Or perhaps upon a barm,
I get by on old Scouse wit,
And on my Liverpool charm.

But I’ve never owned a tracksuit,
It’s simply not my style,
And I’m not a football maniac,
Or have a police file.

So remember that you can’t believe,
All that people say,
About us lowly Scousers,
Who come from Bootle way....

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