At the PM's Door

One, two, three, four
Cleggy at the PM's door;
Five, six, seven, eight
Eating cherries off his plate.

Leaving No. 10

Robin Hood, Robin Hood, leaving No. 10
Robin Hood, Robin Hood, won't be back again
Most rich and poor want him no more
Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Robin Hood.

The man with the beard in Evenlode Books

The man with the beard at the back of the shop
Is writing down numbers and adding them up
He turns to the screen to elicit a code
Then fires up a browser and watches it load.

Somewhere in cyberspace orders are placed
Into the post a new package is raced
To make good the promise of books the next day
The Rough Guide to China, a new Broadway play.

Meanwhile a customer stops at a shelf
Hoping to find some escape for himself
His head is half-cocked as he studies the spines
Alighting on one and then reading some lines.

It looks from the opening quite a good choice
An interesting setting, an authentic voice
The story’s narrator, a boy in his teens
Has Asperger’s Syndrome, or that’s how it seems.

The customer pays and heads off round the block
The man with the beard glances up at the clock
It’s time to shut shop and head off for some grub:
A Good Food Shop sarny, a bite down the pub.

With all of the stock he has, what has he read?
He’s writing a novel, so somebody said
It’s maybe not true, but it also makes sense
Surrounded by books the urge must be intense.

They say he’s descended from chippies of sorts
Whose trade was in timber, and not people’s thoughts
Today, when it’s knowledge that gets you ahead
He’s full of resources to put in your head.

Sometimes when I see his display of new books
I’m certain it’s me he’s been trying to hook
It’s rare I’m not tempted to add to that pile
Of things that I’ll read, but just not for a while

Is he pleased to see me when I go in there?
He’ll treat me politely, though won’t call me ‘sir’
I guess that’s his style, which is just fine by me
I’m sure there are others that he’d sooner see.

I still have to thank him, if only I could
For spending a weekend with Margaret Atwood
And also at Christmas, much stranger by far
I spent New Year’s Day with that nice Andrew Marr.

It must be rewarding to think of the homes
Where bookshelves are graced with his CDs and tomes
And then when finances are making things tough
There’s always that gesture of 10% off.

Just where would we be without Evenlode books?!
That Tardis of culture, the first place to look
For last minute presents, like new DVDs
Biographies, music, all waiting to please.

The next time you’re in there and squeezing around
Uncertain of what little gems will be found
Be glad of the pleasures that wait row by row
And grateful the man with the beard made it so.