THE BETTER PART OF ECCLES
(Composed prior to 1971; no known manuscript; reconstructed from memory by Editor. There were some lines towards the end which I have been unable to remember.)Some years ago a casual acquaintance remarked to myself and some friends in a pub
“I live in Eccles – the better part, of course”.
OF COURSE! – although until that moment of revelation, O dear hearts
I never knew that Eccles, like Gaul, divides into three parts!
The better part of Eccles! A standard for armies to fight and die for,
For pontiffs, prelates and priests to pray for:
“Lord of our hosts, the just protector,
Spare, if not all Eccles, then at least the better sector!”
I am myself a suave and sophisticated Metropolitan Mancunian
Who winters in Chorlton-on-Medlock and spends the season in Longsight.
I do not admit humility,
It is a frost in which all poets perish.
. . . . . . . . . .
In cap-a-pie to satirise a youth
Who only saw where I was blind.
. . . . . . . . . . we passed each other once or twice
Beside the Central Library.
I didn’t speak; I was unrecognised,
For surely, that holy aborigine
Lives still, in the dreamtime,
In the Better Part of Eccles.
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