Short Scouse Poems

Gorrup. 
Gorrowta bed
Gorridda yester's scouse
Grabbed me mornin cuppa
Gorron the bloody net
Groaned ter see that nobody
Gorroff on readin' me
Gowawn sed I
Gowin ter chair
Growlin' in me belly
Gropin' for the flicker
Gawkin' at the telly...

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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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