Every day the people do it
We can always see straight through it
Every day they ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’
‘Where are we going’ and ‘how far?’
Walking right through our arcade
Playing out the same charade
Are they coming in to buy?
Or look at every price and sigh?
‘Candlestick sir, antique broach?’
‘Sorry must get to the coach’

Occasionally while one man browses
They will look at the price of houses
But we know that they’ll never buy
Because the prices are too high
‘Salami, cheeses, tongue in jelly?’
But they just walk past the deli
From their course they never budge
Unless of course they want some fudge
‘Perhaps a painting or knick knack
A china tea ***, letter rack?’

The gallery’s packed full of art
But from their cash they still won’t part
The café almost tempts them in
The smell of bacon tends to win
But then they look upon the clock
And wallets full still, off they flock
In short this daily stream of life
That travels through our little fief
Just amounts to so much teasing
Rather than shop keeper pleasing

There is a reason none the less
For their single-mindedness
Despite how varied our approach
We cannot hope to beat the coach