Hughie Linton was a man who dwelt in Belfast Town,

A buyer of antiquities for never more than half-a-crown;

Trading on the Ormeau Road with shop front to the fore,

Stock was from the floor to roof and packed around the door.


Now Hughie dealt in anything that ever came his way,

Hoards of swords and bits of board, were all there on display;

Bird cages and old lamps of brass, to him were all the same,

Utilities, soap or bicycles, buying and selling was his game.


We’d stand and stare at his wares, piled one upon the other,

Retrieving anything within, he had the greatest bother;

‘Old Dears’ would cry, “Hi Hughie! Have you such and such a thing?”

And others for a couple of ‘Bob’, scrap to him would bring.


Looking back to Hughie, he was a man before his time,

And my fondest admiration is recorded in this rhyme;

Hughie’s commodities were ‘Futures’, a genius of my past,

Had I bought all his stock my wealth would now be vast.


Monty Alexander 25.5.98





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