I sat here today, thinking away, of the town that used to be.
There was Pitchers and Brenners - old Cross Keys,
Randell's and Fullers, who sold vests to your knees,
Ribbons and corsets, and buttons in tins,
Where part of your change was a packet of pins.
The old Market Cross where people would dwell
Calling as you passed " I hope you are well".
They were concerned about the state of your health,
They didn't care about the size of your wealth.
The shopkeepers all knew you when you walked in,
Selling paraffin, candles, loose biscuit in a tin.
There was Griffins, Rackstraws and of course the Old Bear,
Where a shilling a week was saved right through the year.
The Angel Hotel was the Hotel of the day,
Where you could sup up and drink up, if you could afford to pay.
There was Mr. Jack Hall who sold savoury and sweet,
He wore a pinny right down to his feet,
A fag on his lip and a shock of white hair.
But serve you he would and always with care.
Then came the Co-op selling ham, milk and bread,
Shirts, vests and panties and sheets for your bed.
The old Co-op horse that trudged the streets,
Delivering pintas and receiving treats.
These are a few of the shops I recall,
Progress is here with one Superstore for all.
Dinkie Walker.
Contributed by Sue Walker, Dinkie Walker's granddaughter.