At a very early time of five in the morning,

A man with a cap rings a bell at dawn’s dawning,

At that all the lights go on at Billinsgate Market,

Lighting the stalls and the walks with no carpet.

There is haddocks and plaice, you can eat in due course,

Fresh the same day, best cooked in a source,

The ozone which exudes from the prostrate cod,

Caught in big trawler nets, and not with a rod.

They shout fishy slogans like, ‘Wink-wink-wink-winkles’,

Have em with salt you can ‘Spri-spri-spri-sprinkle’,

Railway carts converge on the tangle of narrow streets,

From the Monument to market the seagulls shreak.