Pikaney Square

Two score, seven drum, each containing eleven plumbs

And on that day in Pikaney square

Where the chickens abound

And dogs chased the hare

There was a festive event

A joyous sound

The willows whistled

Round the fervorous crowd

It was Justin Wemberly, of Dortmouth alley

Who had come today to share his tally

Of all the fruits he had in hand

He received while traveling throughout the land

He had pomegranates, pineapples, pears, and peaches

He had lemons, lingonberry, loquat, and lychees

He had so many fruits, one could never be glum

But most of all, he cherished his plums

Barrels and barrels, boxes to fit

All to hold those fruits of pit

He stood atop the stage and to the crowd announced

“Come one come all, don’t be trounced,

These plums are the best, anywhere around!

If you come along now, you’ll be paying half I vow

So don’t wait, don’t hesitate, come get your plums now!”

The people rushed and grabbed, they were gone in a flash

All fourteen barrels were emptied in the dash

“But don’t eat them now! Wait till they’re ripe!

I wouldn’t want anyone to take an unsavory bite!”

So the people scattered as Justin packed his bags

Everyone else covering their plums in rags

But by night, whence the time had come

For the people to eat their precious plums

They took a bite, one and all

But what their teeth hit was a rubber ball!

The customers ran, they stormed the street

Out from Pikaney square, one could hear a great bleet

“Give us money or Justin, we don’t care which!

Give us the dosh or give us the bitch!”

But sadly for the crowd, Justin had departed

And with all their money he absconded.

And so this tale comes to a melancholy end

With people tricked, they’re anger to rend

The criminal behind it all gets away

But in quite another way he had to pay

You see Justin was a fox, a trickster and a hustler

A shark, a con, a disingenuous huckster

But above all things Justin desired

He could not find a friend

Or a person by which he could be admired

A single soul in whose eye he did not hold ire

So he spent his days tricking crowds

Always getting a drink in the next town

Laughing to himself at their stupidity

How easily they were beguiled

Because in the end he was just a husk

Whose mouth smiled