One night, after drinking in a down-town pub (where the air was a fuzz of gunge smoke and all the talk was about The Fords car factory in Speke.

I staggered home to my tall tenement block at the end of a street which used to run plumb between the opposing old Orange and Catholic areas of Liverpool and, listening to an account of Sunni/Shia combat on the tele, began to wonder about all kinds of past local combats and fell into a drunken sleep and had this dream. (where – somehow or other – the clergy and religions got somehow mixed up a bit.)

 

 

 

 

There was a fairy lived on our veranda

She was pretty, and carefree and fey,

And if it wasn`t for the fact that my dad couldn`t stand her,

She still might be out there today

 

It was one Sunday morning I found her,

As the chapel-bells chimed down below,

All a-drip with the pearls of the dew-drops around her

And wrapped in a silver-mist glow.

 

I was worried for fear I`d offend her

And had started to tip-toe away

When she stopped me and asked would I kindly attend her

With rye bread and milk every day.

 

I answered, quite shy and embarrassed,

What an honour I felt it to be

To serve her, and so that she wouldn`t feel harassed

I`d bring it each dawn secretly.

 

Till one morning, while watching her bask there,

She looked so contented and well

That I plucked up the courage to ask her

Would she work me a real fairy spell.

 

As quick as a flash! As our time goes,

An enchantment was laid on my eye,

And a billow of basket-weave rainbows

Made a colourful web of the sky.

 

All the noise of the traffic was muffled,

Kirkdale road was a caravan route

Where tall camel-caravans shuffled

Bringing Ali-Baba`s and their loot

 

Stanley park was a restful Oasis

The canal a dark, cool, Shalamar,

All of the pubs hashish-houses

And the market a muslim bazaar.

 

All the lasses were dusky-eyed maidens,

All the lads tanned a deep shade of teak,

Lily the nit-nurse an eastern princess

And Harry the bin-man a sheik.

 

The dole was an Arabic alms-house,

Where vizier clerks at the door

Counted out shiny gold pieces

And tossed them around to the poor.

 

The town hall had a white towered minaret

And each Friday night the lord mayor,

The beloved old Emir of Emerald,

Called all the faithful to prayer.

 

 

……………………..

 

 

But away to left in the mountains

Near the summit of Netherfield road,

The Sultan of Orange and all of his men

Plotted and fumed, and then plotted again,

Swept down and raided the Emerald glen,

Snatched half of the maidens – killed half of the men,

And back home to safety rode.

 

The Emir of Shamrock was furious!

And gathered his men in a spat.

(He regarded it rather injurious

That the sultan should raid him like that.)

He screamed at his men in a frenzy,

`Wreak revenge! Give those monsters no chance`

He cried. And bugler Mohammed Mackenzie

Sounded a spirited advance.

 

What a fight! As they charged up the hillside

The Sultan`s assembly charged down.

They met at mid-way with a terrible clash,

Musketry rattled and scimitars flashed,

As through the confusion, with verve and with dash,

The Emir and Sultan, each wearing his sash

Of green or of orange, called Allah`s curse down.

 

All the blocks fell in quick succession,

The Braddocks and Mazzini heights.

They charged up the stairs at Edinburgh towers

And captured the first fourteen flights.

 

Soon only St Georges was standing,

Lonely and brave at the crest,

With the Sultan still sternly demanding

That every man give of his best.

 

They`d decided to sell their lives dearly

(Though every man there was right scared)

When through the confusion, loudly and clearly,

The sound of a bugle was heard.

 

The Emir and Sultan went puce!

`Cor blimey`! had they had their chips!

They quickly concluded a truce,

The Emir`s men ran for their ships.

 

The Sultan`s men dived for their lairs.

The outlook for fighting was bleak

As general Ford and his brave Legionnaires

Dashed `cross the desert from Speke.

 

I`d love to have seen how it finished,

If everything ended up well

But the fairy got fed up and bored

And said `let`s work a different spell`.

 

 

(That one for next time)