The Pawnshop Window - by Fay Wall

What a fascination the window holds for me.
It attracts my attention, oh the things I do see.
There are brooches and rings of silver and gold
Alarm clocks and watches, some very old
A Westminster chime with a shiny face
Placed high on a shelf in pride of place.
People's possessions once treasures of theirs
End up among the pawnbroker's wares.
A picture framed, a stag at bay
The Scottish hills look out on decay.
Silver spoons all tarnished and brown
The box inlaid with blue velvet
Says silver crown.

Three brass balls
Companions of poverty
That sum up bad days
Of pick pockets and squalor.
Fagin, Shylock, and others that follow
Humiliation and distress, when bad luck calls
One never knows which side the coin falls.

There's clothing made of satin and laces
Ladies stays with very long laces
All faded with age. Well I'm not amazed
They will have seen much better days.
Slippers for dancing from some happy feet
They are red and sparkle, still very neat.

Carpets and rugs rolled and tied with string
Stand like soldiers awaiting the king.
A genuine flying carpet with long tassels and fringe
Conjures up Arabian nights, oh no! It's been singed.

In the corner there's a fly in the dust, on its back
With its legs held high. It's buzzed its last buzz
In this mausoleum
Gone to a great place in the sky
Where no one will see him.

I am curious to know who would pledge
A hammer, a drill, and a thing for a ledge
Tools of a tradesman down on his luck.
Was there no work? To make a quick buck
What a sin
If he'd no money to redeem them again.

Every thing has a story to tell.
Open the door and ring that bell.
Humbled by circumstances
Beyond their control
There's not much money when you're on the dole.

To sell their treasures, they had but few
But such is must when the rent is due.
In this window, what do I see?
Mill girls and miners, I'm glad it's not me.
Shawls and clogs
It's the school of hard knocks.