27 Jun 10
and in the shop…
“Fosdyke and Me and Other Poems”
Stairwell Books and Fighting Cock Press
We went to Mr Hoffman for our meat
and not because his shop was on our street –
it wasn’t. In fact, Sid the butcher’s place
was nearer, and he had a cheery face.
No, when meat was rationed in the war
my granddad said, choose Hoffman, for
his trade will suffer for his name;
we should not join that easy, thoughtless game.
For he had seen at Ypres and Passchendaele
that Huns and Krauts and Jerries were just men,
their meat as red, dead skin as pale.
He would not demonise them all again.
So, to respect the enemy we beat,
we went to Mr Hoffman for our meat.