Ladies of Holt out shopping in dresses
To grab something quick and easy for tea
They walk past the tourists, in heels with their baskets
And pops into Palmers (where parking is free).
Here in a shop where they feel quite at home
Hot running staff there to do as they're bid.
Silently moving as though they're on casters.
Displaying the goods but the prices are hid.
When offered a pie made from best local Poultry
With apricots topping and a thick crust
She looks with a smile at the size of the portion
Trying the deli's new pie is a must.
Finding just the right thing for "His Lordship"
Her daily trial chasing down a new taste
She gets the use of his second best Merecedes
He gets a plateful to stuff his fat face.
Palmer's exists for the discerning palate
The pies there are varied and tasty and good
This pie is toothsome and packed full of fine bird meat
Surrounded by jelly and hinting of fruit.
Its a grand pie to take home or have for a party
Sixteen quid for a whole is cheap at the price
All a friends want sliver that won't make them fatter
Without the fruit topping they wouldn't look twice.
So maybe its all about presentation
Pretty boxes, neat rows and uniformed staff
Palmer's may be a den of temptation
But abstracting money is dome without faff
To tourists its seems all the front is obnoxious
Elitist service for a landed class
They gawp at the prices and exotic ingredients
Pausing and then deciding to pass.
If Holt is a throwback then so are its virtues
Tidy store, knowing floor staff all add to the mix
But where else will the expert jam fan or pieman
Find so many treasures to satiate their fix?
The poultry was tough and the crust a bit burnt
She knows he won't notice when wolfing it down
Nor will he look at the stupendous price tag
In Holt such things would just lower then tone.
With apologies to Betjeman
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