REMEMBER BANBURY?

Remember Banbury, that old market town
Where it was a pleasure to walk up and down,
To go to the pictures, or walk in the park,
To window-shop safely, when evenings were dark?

In Parsons Street, High Street and Market Place too
Were shops that sold everything, isn’t that true?
Pilsworths and Brummitts for kid’s toys and books,
Knitting pins, wool, silks, press-studs and hooks.

Bernard Smiths, Kingerlees and Mansfields for gifts,
There was always the Co-op - “Let’s go in the lift”
Dossetts and Maypole and Butlers as well
That wonderful, freshly ground, rich coffee smell.

Alsops, Nathans and Timothy Whites,
Walking round town held so many delights.
The Market - the one place where we HAD to call,
To buy Banbury rock from Leach’s sweet stall.

Remember The Appletree for cream cakes and chats
Or giggling in Judges, while trying on hats?
Miss Thurston sold wool for hand knitted socks,
John Bonham fixed watches and winding-up clocks.

Stevens, the stationers, was up by The Cross,
Chapmans, Wyncolls and Lays now we’ve lost.
We can meet our friends in Woolworths no more,
Shopping’s no longer a joy, just a chore.

The yeast shop, with baking utensils galore,
The pork butcher’s shop with saw-dusted floor.
All these and more are so clear in my mind,
Am I viewing through glasses, the rose-tinted kind?

The market day buses were crowded with folk,
Who were friendly and helped if a carrier bag broke.
Men with their sons, who always wore caps,
And chattering women with babes on their laps.

Now we drive in our cars to the big super store,
Buy pre-packs in kilos, no pounds anymore.
Progress is making all towns look the same,
Each only distinguishable by its name.

I know things weren’t perfect, sometimes there were fights
Outside the pubs on Saturday nights,
But old Banbury had charm, the shops their own smell.
What next will we lose, The Cross? Who can tell!
Brenda Kirkham