They Call Them Fearless.

The midweek floodlit match

and Stevie Heighway on the wing,

the memory of Bill Shankly

and the time when Kenny was King…

the band I listened to called them Fearless

and as images of Hamburg days and leather jackets

filled the fluid nature of my very existence;

got to choose between the Stones and The Beatles,

my vote went north every time

and went stratospheric the first time

I heard Pepper take the band out for a spin.

They are the Fearless, they are the glue

that frightens the Westminster village

and the poets of the post war survival

and the new breed who should be worshiped

as they talk in a dialect and voice

that is bold and beautiful;

they are the Fearless, the intrepid

and courageous , the valiant and the hopeful.

From Goodison Blue to Anfield Red

and Stanley Park talk in between

at the Salisbury, The Brink, The Fly in The Loaf,

The Cambridge days and The Cavern nights,

these are the Fearless, of humour as a defence,

as a weapon, to bring you down to Earth, to soar

gently above the words imprinted on Williamson Square

and the embrace they give you, Amsterdam, Christians, Icicle working

and with Mono L.P. intent, the Ferry of Song,

the Unity that captures it all and the reason

it stands above the world, is because its people

are Fearless.


Dedicated to the people and the city of Liverpool.

Ian D. Hall 2016