Oh, muse, please help me this tale for to tell,
About a green valley where I once did dwell.
Banked by houses of friends that I knew,
And whilst in my youth, this tale was true.

Liverpool Irish each had their sad song,
Of green river valleys, where they did belong.
Wherever they grew up and then had to leave,
With romantic poetry, for it they did grieve.

I wondered why the English had hardly praised,
The fair hills and valleys where they were raised.
But now I am older and travelled away,
I’ll remember my river, where once I did play.

Oh sweet River Alt, soft flowing and brown.
We walked under bridges and on banks, slithered down.
It started in Huyton and flowed to the sea.
At Altcar near Hightown much further from me.

Our parents had told us not to play there,
For polio was rife and to give us a scare.
But we were too young to think of that fate,
And you might as well tell us not to touch the wet paint.

On the fields we were busy being Vikings and Knights,
With bin lids for shields and fence sticks for fights.
And if you were hit, it was only your fault,
For being too slow to avoid the assault.

Oh sweet River Alt, soft flowing and brown.
We walked under bridges and on banks slithered down.
It started in Huyton and flowed to the sea.
At Altcar near Hightown much further from me.

The Alt it meandered and slowly it wound,
Because there were few hills on this level ground.
We could dam it in places with rubble and bricks,
With old bits of carpet, sods, branches and sticks.

And when I was older, I courted my girl.
We met in the Oak Tree, my head in a swirl.
She lived by the Bluebell, the pub on the rise,
Where the red hills of Huyton blew sand in our eyes.

Each night we had met in the Parish Club bar,
And to walk her back home, it wasn't too far.
And past Cuper Crescent, the Alt it was cold.
So we stopped by the bridge our noses to hold.

Oh sweet River Alt, soft flowing and brown.
We walked under bridges and on banks slithered down.
It started in Huyton and flowed to the sea.
At Altcar near Hightown much further from me.

Oh sweet River Alt, soft flowing and brown.
We walked under bridges and on banks slithered down.
It started in Huyton and flowed to the sea.
At Altcar near Hightown much further from me.