CILLA BLACK
OR THE STAR OF THE NORTH-WEST
When first I lived in Liverpool
Some pleasure for to find
I heard a local singer there
Most pleasing to my mind
The scene was getting groovy then
The year was ’62
And in among the beat-group boys
This girl was fresh and new
Her rosy cheeks, her gutsy voice
Like arrows pierced my breast
She was The Maid Of Merseyside
The Star Of The North-West
She knew her black soul music then
She knew her r’n’b
She made her reputation
Without panto or TV
You’d catch her at the Cavern then
Or the Tower in New Brighton
Singing with a rhythm group
The punters couldn’t frighten
But Cruel Fate did wreck her
Her career was soon a past ’un
Poor girl, she signed to Decca:
Fame was snatched from Beryl Marsden.
So when the music biz sent round
Some tone-deaf cockney hack
To sign a slice of Mersey Sound
There was only Cilla Black.
Lorra lorra liverpewel
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