That old sweetshop on the corner by our school, <br />Even now when I recall it my heart quickens <br />and remembering all those sweet-filled jars, I drool! <br />The proprietor, a character from Dickens, <br />Old Nacky Norris stoops, his ear trumpet <br />Bent to catch the meaning of my childish treble. <br />My sister, Poppy, squeaks but let her lump it— <br />She wants some mints but she can suck a pebble <br />For I’m the one today who has the money! <br />The shelves are stacked with every kind of sweet— <br />Those chocolates that have centres soft and runny, <br />Marshmallows, fudges, toffees—what a treat— <br />Dolly mixtures, jelly babies, acid drops, <br />Great gob stoppers—whoppers, humbugs, butterscotch, <br />Liquorice all-sorts, barley sugars, lollipops… <br />These days I’d have to let my belt out a good notch <br />But then I had a figure like a shoelace <br />So once a week to Nacky’s old shop I would venture <br />And spend an afternoon just stuffing my face <br />Which explains why I've changed my native born teeth for a denture. <br /> <br />*Poem written in response to a challenge by Scarborough Gypsy to write a rhymed poem about a sweetshop remembered from childhood which contains the words—‘trumpet’, ‘poppy’, and ‘shoelace’.<br /><br />Pete Crowther<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/challenge-poem-1-there-s-a-sweetshop-on-the-corn/
