Bakers Lane so long ago <br />Upon the High Street's terraced row, <br />The bakers stood <br />Those times so good <br />Its walls were painted white, <br />Where Ted Buckley baked inside <br />Cakes and bread displayed with pride, <br />The window there <br />Beyond compare <br />Made such a lovely sight. <br /> <br />Every year on Christmas day <br />And while the townsfolk went to pray, <br />He would take <br />Their lunch and bake <br />Their turkeys golden brown, <br />In the ovens that he had <br />All those people were so glad, <br />Forgotten days <br />And simple ways <br />Before it was pulled down. <br /> <br />Bakers Lane so long ago <br />You could smell the rising dough, <br />Of crusty bread <br />On trays that fed <br />The village long before, <br />When it was so old and quaint <br />Times of charm with such restraint, <br />There did dwell <br />Before it fell <br />The friendly baker's store.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bakers-lane/
