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Chips And Peas At Carvers

Chips And Peas At Carver

Hull Minster stands
Facing its Trinity Square:
They called it Holy Trinity
When the Market was there.
Long lines of stalls
Slotted neatly into place
To make best use
Of the restricted space.
Holding mam's hand
Just In case I got lost
As she checked the goods
For both quality and cost,
All the time moving nearer
To that tantalising smell
Drifting through the air of
Fish and chips cooking well,
Coming from the big tent
With the sawdusted floor,
Stomach twisting with hunger as
We walked in through the door.
This was Carvers Tent of Heaven,
Benches lined around the wall,
Serving chips and mushy peas
Vinegar liberally splashed over all.
Legs dangling in the air
Enjoying the pleasure
Of sitting in the warmth
Eating at our leisure.
A quiet place really
Not a place to meet
Or to sit and talk but
A place to sit and eat.
Always finished too soon
Though a little stomach full
One of the greatest pleasures
Of our visit into Hull.
A last look around
As walked through the crowd
Always a busy place
Cheerful, noisy, even loud.
Carvers is still there, inside
Its brick cafe and takeaway
Their fish and chips still as good
As on any past Market day;
But somehow not the joy
Of sliding through the tent door
Legs swinging back and forth
Over that sawdusted floor.
No market there now,
It's against the Council Rules.
Hull Minster now stands
Facing its reflecting pools.
It's an area of peace now
The Market has gone:
Our city has changed
As time has moved on.

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