The Quiet Stranger At George St - A Narrative Poem

One day at a toy shop,
I met a man selling games,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some claims.

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

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

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

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

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

"Games, claims, you shall find.
bouncy balls, aerosols, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to George St Market.

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

There were stalls selling cakes,
Pies in many shades.
There were even stalls selling strakes
People were scattered from many trades

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

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

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

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