One day at a cake shop,
I met a man selling dresses,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some messes.

"Got any messes?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No messes here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.

"We've got some lovely marbles,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some barbels."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.

The man seemed exceptionally tall,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call screwball,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.

Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit beautiful.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty dutiful.

So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the cake shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."

"Dresses, messes, you shall find.
Marbles, barbels, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to High St Market.

So to High St Market I decided to go,
In search of the messes I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.

There were stalls selling tights,
Apples in many shades.
There were even stalls selling special drawing rights
People were scattered from many trades

I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather beautiful
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all dutiful.

Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some messes!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some marbles and dresses.

"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the messes she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.

As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle?