Six o’clock in the morning
hear the rattling of the bars
Carried across the market
from the lorries vans and cars
Feel the metal stinging burning
of a bare fingered hold
Half awake and shivering
in the December’s bitter cold
Stalls being built of the bars,
boards, clips and sheets
And suddenly there appears
the maze of market streets
Bars clipped and weighted,
and anchored to the ground
Relax just a little as the Toby
wanders his way round
Finding any gaps for
the seasonal Christmas trade
Cramming casual's stalls
into spaces that he’s made
Sorting out the arguments
over regular’s pitches
Trying to anticipate
any likely rows and hitches
A market runs so smoothly,
the day made
If they have a Toby
who knows his trade
Displays being made
with style verve and dash
Every trader has their own
special Christmas Flash
Prince with his leathers,
ex catalogue stock
Gordon displaying pyjamas,
knickers and socks
Megan’s got makeup,
bracelets hair pieces, rings
On her twelve foot show
of essential girlie things
Darren’s there with great stocks
of bargain toys
Keeping a keen watch
for the light fingered boys
I’m working hard
to get my flash just right
So my crystal pieces
make best of the light
Special bargain pieces
the pride of my display
Only need sell one or two
to pay for the day
Nearly eight o’clock,
how have those hours passed
But I reckon I’m nearly almost
ready at long last
Hattie’s Pantry sells the best
bacon butties in town
With mugs of sweet hot coffee
to wash them nicely down
Then punters arriving,
selling’s under way
God, how I loved
my market trader days
Walton Street was special,
on the Hull Fair ground
One of the liveliest markets
for many miles around
I stood at Cottingham and Donnie
and quite a few of the rest
But for sheer good fun
Walton Street was by far the best.