Roger McGough: ‘poetry was never something I set out to do, it just happened’

Born in Litherland in 1937, Roger McGough is one of Britain’s most revered poets. Praised by Carol Ann Duffy as ‘the patron saint of poetry’, his most recent book, The Collected Poems 1959 – 2024 illustrates the impressive longevity of his career. As his foreword to that book states, ‘I’ve always been prolific, because I loved setting out on a creative journey to see where the poem would take me’. This love of discovery and surprise filters into all aspects of McGough’s work – as well as writing poetry, he is a broadcaster, children’s writer, playwright and lyricist – and also presents itself throughout our conversation. 

In total McGough has written over one hundred books of poetry and edited a number of anthologies. But when asked, ‘why poetry?’ and ‘what is it about poetry that compels you?’ he answers with characteristic modesty, ‘I don’t honestly know. It was never something that I set out to do, it just happened’. He grew up with ‘very loving parents, lovely dad and mum’. His father ‘worked on the docks all his life… a great dad but he couldn’t quite understand what I was doing. Mum worked all her life. They never owned a house. We always rented a house. My earliest memory is going to the air raid shelters and some of the poems are about that, of bombs going off’, but ‘there were no poets in the family, my dad wasn’t at all literary, mum wasn’t really either, but she liked the idea of books and probably saw a sensitivity in me’. 

The young McGough failed English Literature at O-level as he didn’t read the set texts. However, he was good at English Language, enjoying the use of wordplay, the sounds and rhythms, and attended St Mary’s College in Crosby. There, while his mother ensured he had elocution lessons to refine his Liverpool accent, he took to reciting poetry on stage. On leaving, McGough went to Hull University to study French and Geography with a group of friends all from the same class. In Hull he met Philip Larkin, then the university’s librarian, and remembers him as ‘a sort of rather grand figure, not unfriendly but shy’. Several years later McGough sent some of his poems to Larkin, and recalls the kindness with which Larkin complimented his poems for walking ‘an impressionistic tightrope’, which was ‘exhilarating’, but also meant that he ‘very often fell off’, but in which case he was ‘[not to] worry and get back on’.

It was while at university that McGough started writing seriously. Through his course, he was introduced to French poets, to Rimbaud, Baudelaire, and remembers translating a poem by Verlaine and liking the sound of it. He also recalls hearing a recording of Richard Burton reading Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood – ‘wow, that moved me’. But of his own poetry at this time, McGough admits to a feeling of insecurity. He felt doubts over sending his poetry to the university magazine, because the poems they featured all seemed to be ‘very clever’ as though ‘some of the poets dragged the furniture of their learning into the poem’. He continued to write, although for years, poetry was his best-kept secret, until he left university, returned to Merseyside and began teaching – there he met Adrien Henri and Brian Patten.

McGough’s close friendship and collaboration with fellow Liverpool poets Henri and Patten was ground-breaking. In 1967 they published The Mersey Sound, which became one of the bestselling poetry anthologies of all time, selling over a million copies. Though they initially resisted the label, the title reflected the three poets’ connection with The Beatles and other bands from Liverpool, collectively known as ‘Merseybeat’. Its poetry was radical in both form and style, combining the personal and political in language that was intentionally accessible and colloquial – appealing to a wider audience. And its themes centred around everyday life, romantic love, Liverpool urban life, popular culture, showing a playful rebellion against conventional poetry. ‘Poetry is all of us,’ states McGough with conviction, ‘it’s myself and what’s around you. I think we wanted to celebrate that and share it’.

McGough recalls his friendship and collaboration with Henri and Patten with great affection. Henri, a painter and leader of the poetry-rock group The Liverpool Scene, was often characterised as the trio’s ‘theoretician’. McGough describes him as ‘very influential, very knowledgeable, very intelligent; he was a man of all talents, many talents… he was a force for doing things’. Patten, who published the counterculture poetry magazine Underdog, was the youngest of the three and left school at the age of 15, beginning his career as a journalist for The Bootle Times. His poetry often focused on love and loss and was characterised by lyricism and melancholia as well as humour. In McGough’s words a ‘self-educated’ man, remarkably blessed with ‘a love of poetry, a gift for poetry… a dear friend of mine’.

As a Liverpool poet myself, I’ve been especially inspired by the revolutionary impact of the Mersey poets and their desire to democratise poetry, embracing of working-class culture and rejecting the elitism of the 1960s literary scene that marked them as anti-establishment. They favoured live performance of poetry in pubs, cafés, jazz clubs and bars. Liverpool at that time, boasted a vibrant art and music scene which McGough remembers fondly as an enthralling and exciting time. ‘I got into reciting poetry, standing up in front of an audience… everywhere was a venue, everyone was a performer’. There was a ‘real buzz’, born out of Liverpool’s distinctiveness as an eclectic port city with ‘a tradition of music’, one that has often been influenced by the new ideas brought directly into the docks from other countries including Ireland and America.

As someone who has spent the majority of his life living in traditional port cities – Liverpool, Hull and London – McGough is an apt ambassador for the National Poetry Library’s A Poet in Every Port, a celebration of poetry in coastal communities across the UK taking place this summer as part of the Southbank Centre’s 75th anniversary celebrations. And although he has called London home for several decades, he still resolutely identifies as ‘Liverpudlian’ and a Liverpool poet, something that remains evident throughout his work, particularly in its use of the Scouse dialect. It was also a trait of the plain-spoken anecdotal poetry of The Mersey Sound, although not everyone was a fan. When first published the anthology drew bad reviews from some critics who were dismissive of the poets’ use of vernacular language. ‘There was that note of snobbishness’ recalls McGough, about the Mersey poets not being of an Oxbridge background. They were denigrated as merely ‘Scousers’, but such words only heightened the poets’ resilience. It didn’t matter, ‘we were doing it anyway,’ says McGough.

Beyond his writing McGough has been the much-loved presenter for Radio 4’s Poetry Please for over 25 years, a role which he’s ‘always enjoyed’, largely as it’s kept him up to date with the poetry scene, ‘It’s spreading the word’, he says. ‘I’ve learnt a lot and it just keeps me going. I always look for poems that speak to me, that I feel I could have written’. Among his poetic influences he cites Charles Causley, WS Graham, Norman MacCaig, Edwin Morgan, e.e.cummings, Robert Frost and Kenneth Koch; his admiration for the Scottish poets born out of their ‘surrealism and playfulness’, qualities he found lacking in English poets’ work.

Earlier this year, the University of Liverpool announced their acquisition of McGough’s entire personal archive for future teaching and research. An announcement which left him ‘very honoured’, but also ‘quite emotional and sentimental’, and an apt reason to ask him how he’d like his work to be remembered. ‘For being accessible, memorable, sometimes funny, to give hope and if I can do it, you can’. He goes on to suggest that writing connects us all through time and space, that in writing anything, ‘you’re writing a part of a long, long poem… this is so important. This is one piece of music’.

Finally, as we reflect on his life, we discuss the importance of faith and the people close to him. ‘I’ve got a good wife, I’m a happy man. My wife keeps me grounded. I’ve got a good family and friends’. He mentions his baby granddaughter, born at the end of last year, who likes his books – ‘she bites them’ – before concluding ‘I’ve always tried to be positive. I was brought up to believe I was very lucky… lucky to be Catholic, lucky to be born in Liverpool…that was a gift that was passed on to me’.