It is the autumn of my life, and like an ageing tree
My leaves begin to fall, and as they flutter down
Like tears on the wind, they scatter hope and fear
Today they spin in joy because of hope rediscovered
Where hope was lost on Merseyside.
At last those gallant boys and girls and Mums and Dads
Can wipe away the tarnish so cruelly applied
by a sneering establishment, the last bastion of
a false superiority of “we know better”.
My leaves scatter in the wind of hubris
Remembering too the workers’ friend
that slandered their kindred souls
in the fire of the falsely burning Sun.
Today there are joys, not joys but relief
that Scousers proud are Liverpudlians true
as they have ever been. A shadow lifted,
a light of pride that never faded, now
shining for all to see, feel and almost touch.
The leaves spin on down toward tomorrow
When guilt and shame will walk for many
And rightly so, but lest we forget that
In those days not all was right, and lots was wrong
Wrong by many folk, not consciously not evilly
but because it was the norm, the rickety stadia
the poorly trained coppers, the crappy ambulances.
No, no evil here! But evil in the sad evasion of the truth
The cover-up, the evil story of the lovely fans,
That terrible misjudgment that will haunt for ages
Not born from evil men, but weaklings
the sons of an establishment, now for ever passed.
The leaf will fall and nurture a stronger brighter day
where the nobility of Liverpool will light the way.