They’re shutting our shops in the High Streets

Through losses and lack of new orders

But saddest to date I have to relate

Was the closure of Davygate Borders.

I used to pop in and delve through the shelves

Then leisurely lounge in the chairs,

Pick a novel or three to accompany tea

Which you read in the Starbuck’s upstairs.

I’ve done Bernard Cornwell and Bryson, of course,

And masters of socialist thought;

And with an espresso, I’ve gazed at Picasso –

Come to think of it – none that I’ve bought.

It was then at long last that I realised fast

It was true so undeniably;

It was blindingly obvious why it went bust

It wasn’t a shop – more a library.