Stirrings in the North Shields Jungle,
blood on the pub door.
Tigers in among the working lasses,
captains in glasses
passed out on the floor.
She’s got a price on the sole of her red shoes,
someone’s flogging fish in a corner.
What’s a sailor boy to do
with a sexy Chirton mermaid?
Her hair is long with mystery,
she’s got a dirty history.
Parrot in the corner’s
telling filthy tales.
Women come and go,
seeking out Shields romeos.
and bed one,
it’s a rough old thing;
with bought flesh;
this music in the blubber,
I can hear a baby cry.
Fishing boats leave in morning,
pile of broken hearts behind them:
harbour lovely dreams;
they will cover up the hardness,
soften her tough lips.
Bite on baccy,
snort your snuff,
she might just strut
some stuff for you.
Make you spurt
out of Tynemouth,
into the arms of the strapping sea.
THE STREETS OF TYNE
I kicked out in Half Moon Yard,
bucked a rotten system.
Fell out with fools in All Hallows Lane
and grew up feeling loved.
She dragged my hand down Rabbit Banks Road,
there seemed nowhere else to take it.
We mucked about in Plummer Chare,
soaked up the painful rain.
I wanted to control my life,
shout songs on Amen Corner.
I’d carry bags of modern ballads,
hawk pamphlets on Dog Bank.
Wild girls who blazed through Pipewell Gate
taught my veins to thrill.
I caught her heart on Pandon Bank,
my eyes filled up with fear.
Wanted to carve out a poem,
inspire the Garth Heads dreamers.
A lad grew up to dance along
the length of Pilgrim Street.
I take my wild hopes now to chance
the slope of Dog Leap Stairs.
Follow the pulse of my Tyneside days,
burn passion down The Side.
Posted by keith armstrong at 8:30 am