Named Sunny Southport by the sea
Yet not a port and westerly!
Once proudly part of Lancashire
An honour sadly to expire
Links with that county cast aside
As now it’s merged with Merseyside
The second longest pier it boasts
A floral show each August hosts
The golden sands that met the sea
Invaded now with green debris
Should King Canute at last be feted
For here’s a tide he kept abated!
Famed for its Lord Street thoroughfare
With once no rival anywhere
And surfaced pink to lift morale
Reserved for us and London’s Mall
Lined with trees that glowed at nights
From dangling coloured fairy lights
With classy shops and covered ways
It suffers now from better days
When shoppers thronged its wide expanse
From shop to shop they would advance
Promenading in their finest wears
Revealing their pretentious airs
The buses once were red and cream
An exclusive vibrant colour scheme
But now they’re of a dreary hue
A less alluring Arriva blue
The buses then were staffed by two
A driver and conductor crew
At Eastertide to our delight
Caps would change from black to white
Conductors called each coming stop
And helpful cries of “room on top”
Then passing fast between the seats
He’d gather missing fare receipts
No passenger would have reprieve
On calls of “ Any more fares please”
For fares of tuppence into town
Best not to tender half a crown!
How sadly missed the bathing lake
To tear it down a big mistake
Happy sunny days remembered
Before each brick and board dismembered
So too the old Victoria Hotel
Whose architecture did so excel
Now faceless flats stand in its place
Soulless, bereft of charm and grace
Though now so many things regretted
The town for sure remains indebted
To many former lasting splendours
It remains a town with few contenders