IN THE CAVERN

It is only an ordinary afternoon in Liverpool,
But we are sitting in this replica of the real thing,
Half a century after it was rebuilt here, brick by brick,
A few doors up Mathew Street, its heart and soul intact.

On stage, a singer with a poet’s name is reciting
From the world’s most well-known songbook;
Behind him, the famous psychedelic wall of honour
Proclaims the name of every act it’s had the pleasure to have shown.

The singer’s guitar reverbs the shape of the sacred songs,
While all around the crowd in this catacomb,
Thousands upon thousands of original bricks bear names
Signed by previous pilgrims from all across the universe.

And now, many visits past, we are sharing marker pens
With nearby French men and American women
And finding spare bricks like needles in a haystack,
To add our names here at last and promise that we’ll be back.


(2011)

That’s Jon Keats (sic) performing in The Cavern last Thursday afternoon. The original club was demolished by the council in 1973 to make way for a car-park, would you believe? It was before the city had realized what it possessed in terms of Beatles heritage.

The rebuilt Cavern, despite being not quite original, is still steeped in atmosphere and authenticity. If you want to sign one of its walls, arches or ceilings, you’d better hurry because almost all of those little bricks have already been scribbled on.