A day out to Seaforth

We took the tram to Seaforth
That number thirty three
It was on a Saturday morning my brother, mates and me

We started off from Breckfield Road North, on up to Robson Street
Passed the Mere Lane picture house
with our feet up on each seat

We carried on down Sleepers Hill
then turn into Everton Valley
Looked a moment at Stanley Park playground
With the gang all acting like scallies

It was round about this moment in time
The conductor came for our fares
One by one we took our feet off the seats
as we heard him climbin' the stairs

We crossed over Kirkdale
and cut through the street
that carried our personal name
My brother and me held our heads way high
proud of the momentary fame

The gang held their breath
on the promise of death
as Whittle Street passed quickly by
They thought it was ours
That we let the tram cars
use our street as a short cut to try!

Then over Smith Street into Lambeth Road hill
the battered tram carried her load
Crossed over Commercial onto Sandhills Lane
Then turned right onto Regent Road

We all got excited as Seaforth loomed near
as we thought of the great Seaforth sand
With our rolled up, chewed tickets
transferred to our pockets
we alighted our thirty three tram

It had seemed like hours
but it hadn't been long
Though we savoured each mile that we rode
A green tram car ride
always filled us with pride
and was proved by the smiles that we showed

Five hours in Seaforth till the journey back home
was worth waiting for every time
and recalling those days takes the years away
and brings back these memories of mine. . . .





Norm Whittle