ramblings and things

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Mrs Dobson's Sweet Shop

Half way down Church Lane, fronting the street
Noses pressed against the window to ogle the treats.
Such a small place really only room for two or three
Standing crowded together with those delights to see;
Big glass jars of boiled sweets served by probing hand
In little white paper cones, a little process now banned.
Gob stoppers Bull's Eyes, even Sherbet Dips
Oh the delight as they slid in between the lips.
And with war time rationing not quite yet gone
She always managed to find us a spare coupon.
Cigarettes, pipe tobacco, lard, cheese, wool, bleach
Mrs Dobson sitting there, nearly everything in reach
Lodged in memory like a confectionary Aladdin's cave
That village shop with everything a child could crave.
When she sold up for twenty years others carried on.
Like most such village shops its long closed and gone.


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Mrs Dobson`s Sweet Shop