Poem: The Fast Stranger at The Corn Market

One day at a dress shop,
I met a man selling apples,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some chapels.

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

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

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

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

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

"Apples, chapels, you shall find.
Pies, prize, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to The Corn Market.

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

There were stalls selling apples,
Rings in many shades.
There were even stalls selling pineapples
People were scattered from many trades

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

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

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

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