Hammer and a Match

Chips all brown and crispy
Sizzling in the bubbling fat,
Fish wrapped in golden batter
Sitting in the cabinet, safe and hot.

Steam on window coldly beads
Queue shuffles slowly round the room
All served up by jolly lass
All heated up by natural gas.

Owner’s wife watched the cash
She counted in the tubs of lard,
Sacks of spuds, trays of fish.
She knew the cooker old,
She knew those pipes of lead.

Routine to descend cellar steps
Armed with hammer and a match.
Ran flame along those pipes of lead,
Watched the little blue flames
Leap for freedom in the dark.
Such glee was soon cut short
As wielded hammer struck its blows
Bashed shut each and every tiny hole.

She dare not breathe a word
To her upright husband, greasy.
Just took a hammer and a match
To keep those dancing blue flames
Back in their proper place.

Martin Delemare

3rd November 2010