Postcard Poem about Great Yarmouth

by Faye Lipson

There is nothing Great about Yarmouth
where The Empire’s best is a briny comic
and silvered palmists tell of future harms
or flog tin charms from crumpled crimson booths.
a child gives a mole a mortal TWACK!
and tired neon lights begin to blink.
Oiled paper blows like tumbleweed
behind the peeling whitewashed greyhound track.
Arcades where wooden figures have no face
to see the gawping waxwork’s grim grimace
at years of chips which make the pavements mulch
and pubs for pishy beer before the race.


Postcard features the first Heinz product developed specifically for the UK market!

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