Dick's Deli

Two doors to guide the queue,
Seven shelves high to command the view.
Salted chicken sandwich on Hickey's Bread,
Alas; Dick's Deli is sadly dead.

We had our route, predefined.
We knew who to seek, and where to find.
Down College Avenue & the Narrow Street,
Frog-green tights and Dubarry feet.

Waiting for the bell to ring,
The brilliant future it would bring.
Our Tiger roared, announced her cubs,
Now all that's left are empty pubs.

Giddy violence with the lad's,
Throwing digs and arsing fag's.

Too few faces in the crowd,
Not one reason to feel proud.

O'Connell Mall, an ancient tomb;
Encases Dick's Deli, a withered womb.

But I do not mourn for yesteryear,
Its for tomorrow I shed this tear.