On the sixth day,
God created Manchester they say.
Always knew we were blessed,
Always knew we were heaven sent,
Sending us musical prophets,
Oasis, Happy Mondays, Stone Roses,
Morrissey’s dulcet tones,
sending us leaden skies and rain,
That soaks us to the bone.
A city one of a kind, a city divine,
A worker bee, a beating heart never ceasing to pound,
Pankhurst and Engels dwelled among this revolutionary crowd.
Yet if he created the city,
The rain soaking to the bone,
Did he create our spirit,
independent, proud, a spirit all our own?
No, we did it when he rested,
We did it ouselves,
On the seventh day!
