FALKNER AND HOPE

Little St Bride's Street, Faulkner Square
Juliets of the night 'round there
Lamplit ghosts, quicking shudders
Down the steps while up above us
Georgians splendid, all decaying
Glamour faded, lips all praying
Cutting wind up Hope Street, slaying
Bleary art school painters playing
In the deep end of the city
Liverpool and she's so pretty
When the hard light from the river
Hits the red brick back streets
Jigger the present and the past beats shimmer
Gambia, its stucco peeling
Stately and serenely stealing
Carting souvenirs, berating
Rusted iron gates and grating
Light pours through the high, tall windows
Where narrow alleyways climb down
Past Pilgrim, Caulket Streets and over
Cobblestones through Chinatown
Down to where the river dredges
Silted sand and salts and grime
But Delly sits up high and clambers
Wide across its grand old slope
I'll meet you on a corner
Up there on a corner
Maybe Falkland Street and home