"BACK BUCHANAN STREET"


A feller from the Corpy, just out of plannng school,
Has told us that we've got to move right out of Liverpool.
They're moving us to Kirkby to Skelmersdale and Speke,
But we want to stay where we used to play in Back Buchanan Street,

CHORUS; Don't want to go to Kirkby,don't want to go to Speke,
Don't want to go from all I know in Back Buchanan Street.

(I'll miss the) pub around the corner, with the parlour painted red,
Likewise the green goddesses, likewise the Overhead.
And lots of other little things, like putting out the cat,
Cause there's no back door on the 14th floor of a corpy Tower-block flat.

I'll miss the Mary Ellens, Me Dad'll miss the docks.
Me Gran'll miss the wash-house where she washed me grandad's socks
They've pulled down Paddy's Market, where me Ma once had a stall,
And soon their picks & shovels will be through our backyard wall.

From Bootle to the Dingle, you can hear the same old cry,
"Stop mucking round with Liverpool, at least until I die".