A Ballard of Dover Streets.

A Good Old Custom

O YEZ! O YEZ! Good people all pray listen to my tale,
‘Tis of a good custom which in Dover does prevail.
When Christmas comes to brighten up the closing year,
This custom is to make a show of rarest Christmas cheer.
Another custom has come in – a right good custom too,
Of telling in our newspapers of all that is smart and new.
That custom I would fair observe so at my task I go.
But while I take my notebook out and sharpen my H.B.
I’d preface with this one remark with which you may agree,
I mean to be impartial and to give a verdict true
To those who advertise and those who don’t I’ll give their true.

On Buckland Bridge.

On Buckland Bridge I take my stand by Goodchild the bakers.
The Bull next door quite jolly seems minus the famed “three acres”
There’s Vinnall’s shop of groceries, well decked with ivy green
While Pierce’s meat well fed and dressed, is fit for king or Queen.
Townward I trudge and pass en route Endeavours New and Old
While Huntley’s is ensconce between a rare sight to behold.
Now on this side the Brewery stands on that the flourmill
A text from which a preacher might well a column fill.
But I must fill my columns up with other kind of matter
There’s so much to mention down below I thought I would not flatter.
The groceries at Swinnock’s stores are smartly set in order
With fruit in plateau’s neatly ranged and holly for a border.
Next door is Atmore’s a rare shop for buns and cakes and tarts
While Mr Simpson down below has beef enough to cheer our hearts.
Near Mr Simpson’s is a Steer but not for Christmas fare
He is a greengrocer by trade, and has a show most rare.
Unto our Buckland Councillors respect I now must pay
Unlimited his customers that’s what the papers say.
His genial pleasant manner will – tis said take no denial
So if you go up London Road, you’ll give his shop a trial.
Just one long stride and then I pause again to make some more notes,
Where Mr Earl sells drapery, and men’s warm overcoats
And here the Falcon watchful guards a Councillor’s abode,
My compliments to Mr Birch and so ends London Road.

The Cross Roads.

At these cross roads on a time a felon was interred
His bones were found some months ago, as you perhaps have heard!
A rare good sign full sure it is- of felons there’s a dearth
The only way to find them here is digging in the earth.
These cross roads tempt me to digress, but still I must not yield
Through Bridge Street and the Hamlets to afford an ample field.
To tell of Christmas doings- I must keep to the highway
For as I steer to the Pier there will be much to say.
Turning to High Street first of all I have no little pleasure
In naming Mr Clark’s bright shop, fruit rich, and cakes to treasure.
Then if you would nic-nac’s bur, step into the draper shop
Where Mr Griffith’s has a show, which makes all passers stop.
At Mr Elms there’s a display of things both sweet and pretty
If here you cannot suit your taste, surely ‘twill be a pity.
Next, Mr Pepper’s shop you’ll find where Peter Street begins
Here’s primmest ribs and rounds, and beds and fine soup-yielding shins.
A land of cakes is Mr Foord’s, no better need you seek
And Mr Watt’s of Mental Foods has large supplies all week.
A new meat store you’ll find below, set up by Mr Halke,
The carved beast heads above the door invite you in to walk.
Here Mr Hatch display’s the “weed” sun dried in rare perfection
And Mr Wright his hardware shows soliciting inspection.
Here is Charlton Post Office, the parcel post likewise
Here you may buy your groceries, and post home your supplies.
But if you want a present, pray look at Tomlin’s stock
You’ll find artistic jewellery, or else a handsome clock.
Or if your taste is hard and cold, and iron is your request
Then Matthew Pepper’s o’er the way will no doubt suit you best.
Another member? bless my soul, how thick they are this way
My compliments new councillor from me I pray.
Onward I trudge then pause a bit, to jot down just a line
For Illenden’s have truly made their shop look wondrous fine.
And who’ll deny a word of praise to Chapman’s drapery stock
The jackets are a talking line, likewise the baby’s frock.
Then o’er the way you’ll find a shop where ends Victoria Crescent
Where Mr Taylor’s groceries look rare and rich and very pleasant.
The hospital I next pass by, may God each inmate cheer
And fill each heart with growing hope to meet the coming year.
Now here is Mr Baker’s shop, decked out with cakes most taking
His name and trade agree quite well, as he is A.1 at baking.
Just one more shop I here must name, ‘tis that of Mr Bayley
His beef is fine, his mutton prime, and all is dressed so gaily.

At Ladywell.

And now I halt at Ladywell, for I should be remiss
If I omitted to describe a well known place like this.
I must be brief, however, here for space already cramps
Meadow’s will send you anything, from chairs to handsome lamps.
Greengrocer’s there are three or four – each good in his own way
And Mr Fox, his cakes and buns has set in rich array.
J. Adam’s of the “Park” sells beer, G. Adams near sells beef
And if you do those things abuse, R. Adams gives relief.
Then there’s Park Place grocery store, its windows face both ways
And so well dressed the manager deserves a word of praise.
But here I pass from Ladywell, I must salute the Mayor
Vivs Adcock, and free dinners, which the children daily share.

A Rising Mart of Dover.

And now I come to Biggin Street, the rising mart of Dover
The tradesmen who do business here, are said to live in clover.
The drawback which they chiefly feel, is want of width of way
And then to widen it, there’ll be an awful bill to pay.
So you must jog on as you are, and do the best you can
For a consuming fire is worse than frying in the pan
But I am sadly dawdling now, I must make up lost time
There’s Newport fruits – and Tappey boots, and Ellis sweets sublime.
There’s Brace with flowers, there’s boots restored, there’s Castle’s beef that’s tender
And Miss A. Pain, need I explain, is a well-known newsvendor.
John Parton doing well, I know his smile is bright and hearty
And Blackman’s coffee grinder seems quite an industrious “party.”
Now Stockwell, brother of the press, thy sign looks smart and gay
While Baker speaks in black and white, from just across the way.
Here Adam’s makes a goodly show of Christmas beef well fed
And Burkett shows the staff of life – a stock of well made bread.
Now here’s the Priory Dinning Rooms, I must just have a snack
Here boy, my book and pencil hold, and wait till I come back.
And now I’m on the track again, and there goes Bowman’s bell
Time flies, the day is now half-gone, and I have much to tell.
Here’s Mr Burt’s fine handsome shop, pray do not pass this over
It equals any in it’s line from end to end of Dover.
Now lets see, here’s Priory Street leading to Folkestone Road
Some notice to the shops up here, there is a justice owed.
There’s Attwood who sells papers, as you go up to the station
There’s Rugly’s who sell cakes and wine, without inebriation.
There’s Edward’s shop enlarged this year, a rare emporium now
A credit to the acreage where browses the Red Cow.
At York Street corner, Longley’s beef keeps up it’s old renown
Well worthy the proximity of over looking the “Crown”
And now in Biggin Street I’m back, mincemeat and cakes I note
As usual are at Morris’s and good they are I vote.
Now Mr Wood your beef looks good, likewise your mutton too
And so do Rubie’s groceries, to give to them their due.
I should invite a special line for fruits be crystallizes
And other novel things he sells, under the name “surprise’s.”
Now here Pencester-flanked on one side with boots
And on the other pretty things, which each stray fancy suits.
What shall I say of Richard now? His fruits are very fine
I’d like him to supply desert when I go out to dine.
Next look at Scott’s, a sweet shop this, replete with rare confections
So gaily dressed, and well arranged, you’ll find few such collections.
On Gillman’s prime beef neatly dressed, I must my praise bestow
At Hatton’s drapery mart, there is a pretty Christmas show.
Next, let me call attention to the shop of Mr Amos
For toys and dolls and Christmas gifts, I must pronounce it famous.
At Mr Spain’s there is a show of very pretty cakes
And Marsh’s fruit in his new shop, a good impression makes.
Here’s Mr Stewart milk shop, bright, polished, and spick and span new
I fancy if it keeps like that there’ll be a chance to do.
Geddes has a good show of boots, Masters will do his share
To put things right for festive time, by dressing peoples hair.
The Misses Horsnail make a good show of Christmas cards and books
While o’er the way, Saracen has Christmas in his looks.
And now good-day to Biggin Street, my long task there is done
I’ve found a lot of shops up there, where some folks found but one.

Classic Canon Street.

I pass ye ancient Biggin Gate to classic Canon Street
Where old St. Mary’s tower, aloft o’er the churchyard smart and neat.
Our Council dubs this Cannon Street, and with two n’s indite it
‘Tis Canon church not Cannon state, so please with one “n” please write it.
And coming now to business things, prey let us next proceed
To where John Highland mon presides, o’er many a favourite weed.
But keep your wonder and surprise for Sutton’s store of toys
A perfect paradise for girls, a very heaven for boys.
Now, Standen’s, Penny’s, Bannon’s, Clark’s in turn invite inspection
Wright’s ample store seems more and more approaching perfection.
Of jugs and cans, and pots and pans, at Welch’s there’s no end
While on Scotch cakes just opposite, you may your fortune spend.
And now before from Canon Street, I can consent to part
Just this corner shop you know belongs to Mr Hart.

The Market Place of Dover.

O Patron Saint St. Martin, come I pray unto my aid
Inspire my song and tell me where my stand shall now be made.
Ah! Yes I see at Illenden’s, what starting could be neater
And where in the world are cakes so nicely made or sweeter?
I dote upon that cakely show, it makes my spirit rise
With such cakes to fall back upon – I fogs and mud despise.
Now, as the Irishman said “I pass on round the square”
Flashman’s demands high praises indeed, the goods are rich and rare.
Killick and Back have got the neck of sailing with the breeze
And now the present buying whim, they seemed inclined to please.
They say good wine doth need no bush, Binfield’s I need not flatter
But Johnson’s books I well can vouch, are full of useful matter.
Now shall I cross the Market Place? There is not much to see
But there’s the Carlton Club aloft, beneath there’s Indian Tea.
There’s Waterloo, a name to note recalling British valour
‘Twas men made Waterloo a name, and who makes man? The tailor?
Now if you wish to fill your pipe, call next on Mr Mate
And pause at the New Postal Place, a blessing from the State.
Then look around for Sedgewick’s stall, a local institution
Where books and tools, and odds and ends, you’ll find in rare confusion.
Just round in King Street, pause and look beside the County Bank
For presents suited to all tastes, bacon holds foremost rank.
And now a word of greeting to my Tory friend Chron
And likewise to our Standard friend a little further on.
The Market Lane establishment makes an imposing show
Of British produce and rare things, which foreign climes bestow.
In Last Lane, Binfield’s grocery store is certainly attractive
And business seems from morn till night unusually active.

To Bench Street Now.

To Bench Street now I make my way, and note the Francis Wood
Is making a right noble show of beef that’s prime and good.
Of pork at Zoller’s you will find the primmest dairy feed
While Ball, in beef and mutton too, is keeping well ahead.
Webb, who to Dowle successor is, has fruit of every kind
Of rosy apple pyramids, and hills of dates behind.
At Snargate corner Page’s shop keeps up its reputation
While Thiselton’s on Townwall side, is equal to the occasion.
Just round the corner Swafferes is quite a show, collecting crowds at night
Before Cuff Brothers window I could stand and gaze for hours
But to describe the things on view, would much o’er tax my powers.
The silver ormolu and brass, plush ivory, Russian leather
You’d have to travel many miles, to find their equals brought together.
The book department is well stocked with latest things to print
And diaries and annuals are piled there without stint.
Then over there is Woodruff’s place, dazzling with silvery brightness
And if you enter, you’ll surely greeted with politeness.
The fancy goods are very choice, the prices are in reason
In fact, just the pace to go at this “present” season.

Now Ancient Snargate Ward I Tread.

Now ancient Snargate ward I tread, what means this crowd I meet?
Why surely Elgar’s customers monopolise the street.
This must not be – move on I pray, each man take off your joint
I’ll speak to Sanders he must be here, some extra men appoint.
Here’s Haynes hairdresser of repute, a well-known local figure
And Humphrey’s who sells prime cigars and real Dover mixture.
At Haseldine’s, ball dresses form quite a unique display
While Sclater’s pictures vie with Beckers curios o’er the way.
Now Snargate Street is very long, and space is getting small
I cannot find a line on each, if I would mention all.
But Mrs Dudeney’s dual shops, must not be treated lightly
The goods are pretty to the eye, and good if I hear rightly.
Of Spain’s I’ve spoken many a year, just walk into their showroom
If I attempted all to tell, I’m certain there be no room.
At Igglesden’s there’s jewellery, watches and chains and lockets
You’ll find at Tom Tidler’s ground, with money in your pockets.
Here Mr Webb, the peoples friend, who’s promised work for all
There certainly is work for some, to clear his well-filled stall.
And now a word, the Express well filled with mental meat
The pepper and the mustard’s in the gossip of the street.
Paine’s fancy drapery shop comes next, there’s one more just below
While intervening you will find Carriers rare and china show.
But drat it I must hurry on or ere my task is done
I shall find all the shutters up, and so miss all the fun.
Here’s Sproston’s draw and Cottrell pills and Frazer’s art depot
Amos and Grossmann’s photo shops, you choose to which you’ll go.
But wait a bit, I had forgot the famed Snargate Bazaar
Go in see for yourselves, and drive away dull care.
At Goulden’s there’s a show room full of many a novel notion
Describing them would only seem like bailing out the ocean.
Now Pointer’s need no pointing out for o i c u r going
Paper, Mama, and baby’s gone to see the things there’s showing.
Here’s Rowland’s sweets, a tempting lot and Langley’s fruity show
And Newton’s nice confectionary, which sets ones heart aglow.
Bottle and Gandy’s shop today is quite a local feature
And their full sized brown Wiltshire pig is a most handsome creature.
The Shaftesbury Café demands a line, and Pettitt’s window too
While the Red Shop and Dela Hayes alike, must have their due.
But now I hurry up a bit, ah! Here is Drincqbier’s shop
Chock full of turkeys, geese, game, fish, but here detail must stop.
Then on to Thorpe’s rare show of meat, well-fed dressed and displayed
Some fifty carcases must fall to meet his Christmas trade.
Now just one more word for Mr King, newsvendor for the Pier
He sells “Expresses” every week and yearbooks every year.
My song is done, I’ve left some out, but they must be contented
For if this rhyming I keep on, I shall be soon demented.

Compiled by J.K.A. Banks.