Hello my darlings, well how’s it hanging?
I can barely write, my head’s still banging.
But I had a good one, don’t you worry,
Lots of cider plus wine and a curry.
New Year's Eve is always a blast to me,
Has been so ever since ‘73
When in downtown Wigan I first got drunk
In the company of Alice the punk.
The location’s changed but still I can drink
Any of you under the kitchen sink.
It’s New Brighton now and in truth I’m glad
To be booze-happy here instead of sad
In London or Hull or some other town
Where I’ve lived and loved and often felt down.
I am supping now in the Last Chance Bar
Aged nearly fifty and still not a star
But content to be on the Mersey shore.
New Brighton! Wish I’d thought of it before.
For me an ideal place beside the sea
A bit like a circus, wild, warm and free.
I’ve only been here a couple of years
But the people I’ve met are such sweet dears
Almost entirely, perhaps I should add,
‘Cos there are a few monsters, though none too bad.
We all rub along in a noisy groove
Quiet ready to mix the rough with the smooth.
Guitarists , singers and lunatics all
Call into the Perch and they sometimes fall
But always into the protecting arms
Of Scousers and Celts with seductive charms
Though some are pissed and reckless, let me say
As I wake with sore head on New Year’s Day
And look back over the year that has died
Once more thanking God that we’ve all survived.
So here’s to New Brighton, cheers, all the best
All things considered, I’m very impressed.
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