Starting out in Liverpool along with the Beatles, Roger McGough went on to become -- and still is – the most popular poet in the UK.
The year: 1963. The place: Hope Hall Club, Liverpool.
Three young performers are doing comic songs and satirical sketches. They will soon be known as The Scaffold, but for the moment, they are listed simply as Roger McGough, John Gorman and Mike McGear. Fifteen minutes away at the Cavern Club, McGear’s brother Paul is also performing with a group, but using the real family name, McCartney.
Everyone knows the subsequent history of the Beatles, but McGough and his Scaffold mates never reached such exalted heights. Just once did they hit the-top-of-the-charts, and that was with a catchy song based on the label of Lydia Pinkham’s 19th century patent medicine.
We’ll drink a drink, a drink To Lily the Pink, the Pink, the Pink The saviour of the human race For she invented, medicinal compound Most efficacious in every case.
Mr. Freers had sticky out ears And it made him awful shy And so they gave him medicinal compound And now he’s learning how to fly.
Old Ebenezer thought he was Julius Caesar And so they put him in a home Where they gave him medicinal compound And now he’s emperor of Rome.
We’ll drink a drink, a drink To Lily the Pink, the Pink, the pink The savior of the human race For she invented medicinal compound Most efficacious in every case.
Two of the members of the Scaffold have had reasonable careers, but Roger McGough went on to become — and still is – the most popular poet in the UK. Grandly prolific, he has written more than fifty books of poetry and has twice received high honors (OBE, CBE) from the Queen.
Here is a favorite McGough poem, imaginative, accessible, and maybe just a little off-the-wall.
A stranger called this morning Dressed all in black and grey Put every sound into a bag And carried them away
The whistling of the kettle The turning of the lock The purring of the kitten The ticking of the clock
The popping of the toaster The crunching of the flakes When you spread the marmalade The scraping noise it makes
The hissing of the frying pan The ticking of the grill The bubbling of the bathtub As it starts to fill
The drumming of the raindrops On the windowpane When you do the washing-up The gurgle of the drain
The crying of the baby The squeaking of the chair The swishing of the curtain The creaking of the stair
A stranger called this morning He didn’t leave his name Left us only silence Life will never be the same
In 1967, a signal event in the world of poetry was the publication of a book featuring three Liverpool poets: Adrian Henri, Brian Patten and Roger McGough. It was called “The Mersey Sound” and was named for the Mersey River that flows through Liverpool. One might say that it was at that moment that McGough’s poems went mainstream. More than half a million copies were sold, possibly the most ever for a poetry anthology. Two of McGough’s brightest poems from the collection are featured in our Video: “Goodbat Nightman” and “Discretion is the Better Part of Valerie.”
McGough is a master of wordplay, altering spellings and punctuation, inventively moving words around or creating new words altogether. He will typically write about “The bells in the batfry” or refer to himself as abitofalad. On a grander scale, here is his bravura description of a participant in the French Grand Prix.
Poop, poop, poop! Allez Oop! A la France to Monte Carlo, Ici come, Ici go, In my super motor car. On my way I may stray To Calais and then St. Malo, Then a detour for a day tour Through the châteaux of the Loire.
Zut alors! I adore For to squash a peasant flatter Than a crêpe As I step On ze jolie gasoline. Down the hill, Such a thrill To see all the chickens scatter As I clatter Down ze highway In my racing car machine!
En voiture! It’s for sure, Now I go like le Diable And endure The manure In each farmyard I go past. Le Grand Prix Is for me Quelque something formidab’la Vie en rose Is to suppose I’m driving beaucoup much too fast!
As with many writers of humor, there can be a serious part of the soul waiting to be let out. McGough has written some dark poems, but ultimately humor surfaces. As he once said, “Every day I think about dying, about disease, starvation, violence, terrorism, war, and the end of the world. It helps keep my mind off things.”
Here is a tender and somewhat self-deprecating piece McGough calls “A Poem Just For Me.”
Where am I now when I need me Suddenly where have I gone? I’m so alone here without me Tell me please what have I done?
Once I did most things together I went for walks hand in hand I shared my life so completely I met my every demand.
Tell me I’ll come back tomorrow I’ll keep my arms open wide Tell me that I’ll never leave me My place is here at my side.
Maybe I’ve simply mislaid me Like an umbrella or key So until the day that I come my way Here is a poem just for me.
Finally, for those of us who have reached a certain age and have one or maybe two generations stepping on our heels, here is a typical bit of McGough philosophy.
O Lord, let me be a burden on my children For long they’ve been a burden upon me. May they fetch and carry, clean and scrub And do so cheerfully.
Let them take it in turns at putting me up Nice sunny rooms at the top of the stairs With a walk-in bath and lift installed At great expense . . . Theirs.
Insurance against the body-blows of time Isn’t that what having children’s all about? To bring them up knowing that they owe you And can’t contract out?
What is money for but to spend on their schooling? Designer clothes, mindless hobbies, usual stuff. Then as soon as they’re earning, off they go Well, enough’s enough.
It’s been a blessing watching them develop The parental pride we felt as each one grew. But Lord, let me be a burden on my children And on my children’s children too.
* * * Note: Before introducing our video, and in the interest of disclosure, I should mention that Roger McGough and I were co-lyricists of the Nathan Lane Broadway musical “Wind in the Willows.” Jane Iredale wrote the book, and I composed the music. No one got rich, but we all had Tony Award nominations, which was fun.
VIDEO. Our setting is the Old Bull’s Head pub in England, where every evening a trio of actors comes in to perform the songs and poems of Roger McGough. Special guest Jim Dale, Ginni Ness and John Neville-Andrews are the troubadours, and Jill Tanner the proprietress. McGough joins us at the end.
CLICK ON THIS LINK FOR VIDEO:
ROGER MCGOUGH AND THE LIVERPOOL LADS
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