...and, as Penelope would probably proclaim too, the Mersey is more than Liverpool, LH...

Poem 111 of 230: THE MERSEY AT DIDSBURY - SPRING 2000

(TUNE:

Eb F G Ab G
D F G Ab G
D F G Ab G
D G Ab Bb Ab
D G Ab Bb Ab
D F G Ab G)

Took bus one-four-three,                        
    From Piccadilly,
Along Oxford Road;
    Passed the old uni's,
Those shops with saris,
    And my first abode.

At Didsbury Village,
    The Old Parsonage
Looked neat, and gave sound,
    As I walked the way,
At about midday,
    To a Mersey mound.

From atop this bank,
    No longer a blank
Was the strong river,
    Nor the wide fairways -
Where I'd filled two days,
    Twelve years earlier.

I then headed back,
    On Stenner Woods' track
(Hearing more birdsong,
    And seeing mossed stumps
Plus well-layered clumps),
    To a human throng.

This throng was viewing -
    Justly pursuing -
The smart Rock Gardens,
    Sloped on Fletcher Moss,
Which I, too, did cross,
    Before homeward wends.

From http://blogs.myspace.com/walkaboutsverse (e-book)
Or http://walkaboutsverse.sitegoz.com (e-scroll)
(C) David Franks 2003