The Yellow Stranger At High St – A Narrative Poem
One day at a pet shop,
I met a man selling cakes,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some pancakes.
“Got any pancakes?” asked I.
“For that’s how I’ll spend my money.”
“No pancakes here!” said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
“We’ve got some lovely chips,
I’ll give you a very fine price.”
“I’d rather have some championships.”
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally furry,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn’t what I would call burry,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I’m a bit yellow.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty mellow.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the pet shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
“I can help you I believe.”
“Cakes, pancakes, you shall find.
Chips, championships, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to High St Market.
So to High St Market I decided to go,
In search of the pancakes I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling apples,
Tights in many shades.
There were even stalls selling apelles
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather yellow
I couldn’t help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all mellow.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, “For you, I have some pancakes!”
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some chips and cakes.
“But how did you know?” I asked,
“Do you want them or not?” she did say.
Silently, the pancakes she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?