Mr and Mrs James

They would listen to your tales of woe that's if you had time to stop
There was no way you would catch him or his wife on the hop
and they would oblige you with goods on the slate no longer can you relate
That was a time before the introduction of a social caring state
How he found any thing in all that clutter
Was a feat that had to be seen?
after he'd shut up shop you could still knock on the side door
It was always the same question why did you have to wait
Until I'd put up the shutter;
any thing could be bought with a service to please
a cup of sugar or a glass of milk crumbs from the wedge of cheese.
One slice of streaky bacon any thing he would retail.
Selling his soul to the devil to make a sale
Stocked on crowed shelves cheap cotton socks
Front and back collar studs cards of linen shirt buttons
Hair grips safety pins hammer `n` nail
Behind his counter he would stand controller of his estate
Encouraging you to add more items to his slate.
With his fat finger beckoning on Friday the day of reckoning.
He dressed in a patched brown cow gown white mufferler and cap
But for all his wealth he was a miserable chap
I frequented his shop from a small child up to my army days
and never did come to terms with his strange ways
In appearance and clothes there were never any change.
Year after year he was always the same
So strange