Kennedy's Peas

In the streets of Aberdeen after the flood of '56

A local institution came back to me, a colourful character mix

A clip-clop of a horse and cart echoes up our half-made street

It was the local fruit and vegie man Kennedy on his beat

His vegies had exposure no shade from sun or rain

But he offered personal service for not much personal gain

There may have been another way to get your produce in

But we looked forward to his clip-clop, his whiskers and his grin

As he drove right up the driveway to give my mum her choice

of ripe or over-ripe vegies, we looked forward to his voice

reciting by heart the prices, his calling was an art

he called my mother "Missus" and he drove a horse and cart.

Kennedy's peas got famous for their texture and their size,

not the perfect round green squashy things that supermarkets prize

They were bigger, harder, kind of squarer hexagons of iron,

they didn't dissolve and disappear they were peas that you could bite on

Once manouvred up the driveway there was no way to turn about

But Kennedy had it figured that Dolly could get out

When he was finished service and had pocketed half a quid

He'd say thank you Missus muchly and then he'd tip his lid

He'd whistle Dolly quietly to get her back on course

out of the yard with timely skill went the cart before the horse.

Kennedy was a picture and as a picture remains apart

Destined not forever to drive fruit round in a cart

For one day he appeared there before I'd had a chance to wait

and Kennedy I saw, but no horse was at our gate.

For fifteen years on the vegie-run she'd never failed a test

Now I know it's her turn, our Dolly deserves a rest

He sat down looking earnest about the partner he'd had for years

"I've retired her out to pasture" as he fought back the tears

We should have been dejected and told Kennedy "now we're bored"

But us boys loved adventure and he'd replaced her with a Ford

Where I'd had a wooden hub to explore his fruit display

Now I had a running board to climb on, not a dray

an old car even then, with steering, spokes and key

when asked about his mare he'd proudly say "this ford's from '23

The roof was folded down permanent-like I don't think it would ever go back

It's crusty crazed cracked leather kind of framed the vegie rack

I loved him for his humour and his grey stubble of a smile

and he called my mother "missus" I haven't seen him in a while

He was always there to serve us by horse and cart or Ford

When will Kennedy be here Mum?

But then he came no more

copyright 2002 Blue Who & Old Shoe