Cap of Liberty (peterloo) 

A poem commemorating the Peterloo massacre of 1819, when 18 were killed in Manchester just for seeking the vote.

Cap of Liberty

Peaceful assembly 

on the fields

Seeking reform, the vote,


Banners flying,

Topped with that old symbol,

The red cap of


They came riding riding,

Sabres drawn

Just like Waterloo,

A battle against lady Liberty.

Riding down and slashing

People like you and me

18 butchered innocently,

Red the colour of the blood stain

And the cap of Liberty.

I am a Mancunian

I may be homeless,

Living on the street,

A stranger on a tram that you happen to meet,

But I am a mancunian.


I may be a red or a blue,

Locked in sports gladiator duel,

But I am a mancunian,

I may speak many languages,

One, or a few,

With words sounding unfamiliar to you.

I may be a Christian,

A Muslim, A Jew,

A Sikh, A Buddhist,

Or Hindu.

I may have strong faith,

Or no faith,

But I am a mancunian,

I may love the rain or Loathe the rain,

But gay straight or bi,

Full of faith or no faith be I,

Red or blue,

Have or have not,

I am your kindred ‘ar kid’,

I’m a bee in the hive,

I’m a mancunian.

On the sixth day….. (Manchester)

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!