Well in the 50s and 60s ..this was a favourite drinking spot for some very well known people who came up for the amazing number of clubs here in the north west.
After performing I'm told they would gather in the off licence in the back room, behind the shop, and music and drinking would go on until the wee hours.
T'were Greenall Whitley's place, me lad,
An' had been moneys a year.
Where t'folk brought roun' their jugs, me lad,
Tay git their daily beer.
They'd send out kid with jug, me lad,
An' biggest jug at that.
Whilst they'd wait by the fire, me lad,
They feet upon t'mat.
But rack 'n' ruin soon took it lad,
An' twalls was fallin' down.
You cudna get thy beer, my lad
Thou needst go in t' town.
The place is very different lad,
The cellars locked 'n' barred.
They've put a brand new floor in it.
It looks like folk have cared.
But t' ghost of Acker Bilk, me lad,
Still lingers in the shop.
When he sold us things for sixpence lad,
An' made our eyeballs pop.
An' little Geordie Harrison
When only seventeen,
Would come to help the manager
T' keep the shelving clean.
The place is full of art, me lad,
Too posh for folks like us.
They're sellin' bits o' pot, me lad,
Gotten rid of all the dust.
Still, I like to think on't past, me lad.
On't histry o' the place.
When I were young an' free, me lad.
And I were in the race.
The human race....lad!
Yes they really did come here and really did stand behind the servery and sell everything for sixpence...much to the worry of the manager.
They had sing songs in the back room....and an inordinate amount of beer...so I'm told.
But of course this is only hearsay!