With my folks, I lived on top
Of the North East Gas Board showrooms shop
In a row of flats called Parkway Mews
From which we had outstanding views
Of the back of Ladbrokes’, the Pathfinder pub
And the brand new East Leeds Labour Club.
Our house wasn’t in so much of a street
As a labyrinth built from cold concrete.
Not posh like how it should have been.
They’d even gone and got the Queen
To come up on a 16 bus
And unveil a shiny plaque for us.
Such a shame the shopping centre
Didn’t turn out how it was meant to.
Lovely shops and a brass band stand
Was what the men in suits had planned.
But the whole world turned its back and scoffed
As the heart was ripped from our Seacroft.
In the busy indoor market hall
There was nowt I liked except the stall
Where I could spend my weekly wage
On ex juke box records from a golden age
By Bowie, Bolan and by Slade
Within half an hour of getting paid.
And then the stall where they sold bread
Was another place I’d go to shed
A bit more of my hard earned cash
On a sausage roll and just a flash
Of a smile from the girl who used to thrill
My teenage heart as she rang her till.
Sometimes we’d go to the Derrisford caff
For a bottle of Coke and a bit of a laugh.
We’d waste so many afternoons
In the mother of all the greasy spoons.
Talking rubbish. Talking soft.
Of a romantic world beyond Seacroft.