Northern Soul

by Bethan Crossley

Yes, I’m partial to a drink or two, sweet martini then a strong brew
To sooth the self inflicted migraines that invariably ensue
And recounting the tales of drunken antics is one of my favourite
things to do
But I’m not a binge drinker it’s just my Northern soul coming through

I’m a staunch devotee of “coal not dole”
I just can’t understand Mrs Thatcher and her ideas of job control
In fact I’m not a fan of the Tories’ policies as a whole
Is that the hints of my embryonic communism or just my Northern soul

I love it when I get called “r kid” in that synonymous Northern drawl
And seeing old men, with the mandatory bags of chips coming back
from the pub crawl
All nigths spent in working men’s clubs as restrictive as the
abdominal wall
And with Liam and Noel, can anyone wonder why the North will
always be my first port of call

When it rains up here it belts it down, really pours and pours
And to get away from it all everyone goes on Wallace Arnold coach tours
To Tenefife or Benidorm, with their Brit polluted shores
But it’s always back home to Jerusalem that was built on these
Northern moors

I’m proud that we produced Madchester, Morrissey and black lace
And its not a lounge but the front room that we call living space
But surely the Royle family, the one with Jim and Denise is our
coup de grace
And I’m sure that the North will always and forever be my holy place

I drink cups of tea in cafes that have seen better days
And the women behind the counter’s talking about a party buffet
not buffet
So I accept I might be full of a load of cliche?s
But believe me being a Northerner’s in my heart and soul it’s not just
a generic phrase