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Mr. Jewel's Antique and Clock Mending Shop

Old Harry spent his days round at Mr Jewel’s
antique, bric a brac, nick nack paddy wack,
old dog and bone, watch, clock and tick tock
menders, returning to sender sound and true, unless he’s
been on a bender the night before and wasn’t good as new
There they sat with the clocks going cuckoo, Mr. Harry
talking about the old days and Old Jewelly chiming in
with his interesting thoughts about where vultures migrate to in Autumn
and why Mrs Spleen was a flighty bint and tinted her hair green
every spring though it never mounted to more than a birds nest
with a straw hat precariously perched and a pair of diamante
encrusted macaw shaped ear rings dragging on her lobes, given, she said,
by a lord, but almost certainly  a sailor blown onto shore,
searching for any  port to shelter from a storm.
The tide of time came in and went out as Harry shuffled back and forth
with steaming tea, raising dust that settled on the delicate mechanisms of
his memory where fact floated out to fiction and back again. As dusk settled
Mr Jewel would always say “Nip down Donachy’s and get me a bottle on tick,
I’ve a feeling it might be closing time and I need a nip.”
Though you could never really tell, by searching among faces
of a his cock eyed clocks chiming towards eternity

Dog and bone- cockney rhyming slang for phone
bint- a lady of dubious virtue
tick- credit offered by shops
paddy wack-a liverpudlian Irishman

31 Mar 11

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nice. amazing flow. Ed
 — unknown

Thanks Ed
 — larrylark

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