Poem for a Pastie

Oh sausage rolly,
all sad and lonely,
On a tray all by itself.
No pasties or pies,
Stand by it’s side,
On this baron shelf.

These pastie shops,
Don’t have a lot,
By the end of day,
The fillings cold,
The pastry’s old,
And there’s the vat to pay.

Living in the north of England, I find there is a greggs on every street corner! On a cold rainy day there is nothing more inviting than the warm orange glow of the pastie shop, only to find at 5:30pm all that’s left is a wilted steak bake and half a corned beef slice. It’s tragic!


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