THE BANK! – A POEM BY TONY ALLENDER

Old Tomos sat slumped against the Cornish Arms wall,
He tried to stand up but back down he did fall.
He’d been drinking all day and most of the night,
And had challenged most of his cronies to a fight.

In the shadows Slippery Sid watched his drunken prey,
But no, Sid decided, he’s probably spent all of his pay.
He crept off through the alleys in search of somebody worthwhile,
‘There’s got to be something about in this accursed square mile!’

Across the road was Carefree Carrie, the fishermans’ friend,
And the miners, the tin-workers, anyone with money to spend.
She wasn’t worried about their colour, religion or creed,
As long as she made enough for her tiny babe to feed.

Trade had been good, she’d smiled as she’d been mounted,
Now smiled again as her hard-earned money she counted,
But Sid had backtracked, he’d remembered she was there,
And darted across the road with the speed of a startled hare.

Carrie screamed before Sid had grabbed her throat,
But only the one terrified sounding, high pitched note.
Suddenly Sid felt an excruciating sharp pain,
And looked down at his stomach and a spreading stain.

He collapsed onto the road in a shapeless heap,
Sid wouldn’t awake from this particular sleep.
Carrie had been beaten too many times in the past,
So she’d hidden a knife and had used it at last.

She glanced around, then deep into the ‘Bank’ she ran,
Confident that nobody had seen her stab that odious man.
Into the bowels of Custom House Bank she fled,
To fabricate an alibi of being all night in bed.

But someone had seen, it was Police Constable Rees,
He’d stood in the shadows watching this disturbance of the peace,
Then he turned his back and walked away in the gloomy drizzle,
Just glad to get rid of another piece of worthless pizzle!

Inside the ‘Bank’ itself, Idris and Daisy cwtched together,
And I’ll tell you now, they weren’t talking about the weather.
In the doorway they shuffled about, to give themselves more room.
Both blissfully unaware of the child that was growing in her womb.

Further along this decaying street, a few doors away,
Was Jones the Milk ready to begin another hard day.
Sammy the Rag and Bone man was already on his cart,
He was another who needed an early start!

If you listened carefully you could hear a rat-tat-tat,
The Knocker-up was out and about in his battered hat.
With his long pole, he looked every inch, the part,
Another long working day was looming, soon to start.

A typical night then, in Sea-Side’s Custom House Bank,
Of the goings-on after the winter sun had sank.
This, then, was the ‘Bank’ after the Great War,
Where people skirted the very edges of the law!

By

Tony Allender

Disclaimer: While the location existed all the characters and events mentioned are entirely fictional.