When it rains I remember Liverpool, which isn't
fair, 'cos it was a sunny day that the police dragged
a drunk out of the Mercy.
On the dock he was laid, the sun sunning a dead face'
too late. I didn't see it made any difference,
his face a shade of blue.
They cremated him that took an awful long time,
a water-logged tree trunk creates a lot of smoke;
I was the only mourner.
No, it isn't fair to remember Liverpool only when it
rains, once I did see the sun through a smoke stained
'.And it wasn't he city's fault that I stayed so long
that when leaving I didn't care whether it was raining
No, I'm being very unfair, 'cos the sun does shine,
if above a murky sky; so I really must stop blaming
Liverpool for my misery