The Damp Hens:
Boadicea Hopp, cashier
Bar'bra "Babs" Boyd, widow
Fyvel Lahrm, fireman
Beryl O'Phunn, oyster shucker
Paddy O'Kaykes, baker
X. Lee Briss, bookseller
Shines mein
lamp on each
Damp Hen o'
Hampden.
(Thus be
Hampden ha-
bitués
known.)
What they
do all day
really I've
itemized
freely, in
hopes you their
foibles con-
done.
Boa-
dicea
Hopp, head ca-
shier in a
shop sellin'
beer never'd
swap that ca-
reer...
Barb'ra
Boyd, bred as
"Babs," be em-
ploy'd pickin'
crabs. (She shucks
oysters 'n'
mussels as
well.)
Can she
clams also
shuck...? Sure...plus
surplus, with
luck, Babs can
then on the
black market
sell.
Fireman
Fyvel Lahrm's
hoses (my
poem pro-
poses) puts
out -- without
doubt -- Hampden's
fires.
But the
blighters who
tell you he
lights 'em as
well...? Do those
schmucks burn in
hell! (Yep: they're
liars.)
This is
typical
“Hon” Mrs
Beryl Lowe-
Phunn wearin'
hair in a
pair o' blonde
nests.
Dis here
do Hon had
done back in
'7-
1 stays un-
muss'd at dead
husbands' be-
hests.)
Mr
Paddy O'-
Kaykes wakes at
3 a.m.,
bakes beaucoup
batches o'
cannabis
cookies,
treats he
vends to fast
friends. (Any
profits he
sends to a
bevy o'
loan sharks 'n'
bookies.)
X. Lee
Briss vends used
books, faring
well, so it
looks: folks shop
press'd three a-
breast at Lee's
store.
But if
new books you
need, my ad-
vice is: pro-
ceed to the
new Barnes &
Noble next
door!
(More entries, including accompanying portraits, to
come; a work in progress.)
