Down, the 'Chippy'.
Down, the ‘Chippy’.
When I was a lad (and everything was ‘black and white’),
the highlight of my week was at the ‘chippy’, Friday night.
The smell of it was wonderful and made my spirits rise;
anticipating fish and chips (or sometimes I’d ‘go, pies’!)
The sizzle of the fryers - which spat louder with each fish.
“Could yer give us two steak puddin’s please? Mi Mam ‘as sent a dish!”
The mist of ‘fat’ and cigarettes; the banter of the folk.
A wonderful nostalgia that such memories evoke.
Not much ‘Health & Safety’ then but, somehow, we got through.
(We simply washed our hands ‘cos that was sensible to do.)
The aroma of ‘old news’, wrapping vinegar and oil,
promised us a tasty treat, that none could ever spoil.
Today, things are ‘generic’ It’s ‘convenience, galore’. -
Takeaways, all cartoned up, delivered to your door.
But we experienced something, no ‘millennial’ understands
- feeling ‘stuffed’ on fish and chips - with inky, greasy hands!
“The future is the way!” we're told. “Forget about the past!”
There’s countless dinner options (but, for me, they’ll never last).
Though food's all ‘international’ and now we’re offered ‘fries’,
they’ll never beat the ‘chippy’, for yer fish and chips - or pies!.