I met a man selling tights,
For money he wanted to swap,
But I really wanted some sprites.
"Got any sprites?" asked I.
"For that's how I'll spend my money."
"No sprites here!" said the guy.
He seemed to find it quite funny.
"We've got some lovely crisps,
I'll give you a very fine price."
"I'd rather have some wisps."
The man blinked rapidly thrice.
The man seemed exceptionally energetic,
And his manner was strangely amused.
He wasn't what I would call arithmetic,
Great disdain he noticeably oozed.
Like others, he thought I was odd,
Some say I'm a bit tiny.
Still he gave me a courteous nod,
As if he thought I was plenty piny.
So in search of my goal I departed,
But before the dog shop could I leave,
The man came running full-hearted,
"I can help you I believe."
"Tights, sprites, you shall find.
Crisps, wisps, you can get.
You must now open your mind,
And get down to Camden Market.
So to Camden Market I decided to go,
In search of the sprites I craved.
The winds it did eerily blow.
But I felt that the day could be saved.
There were stalls selling shirts,
Shoes in many shades.
There were even stalls selling desserts
People were scattered from many trades
I was greeted by a peculiar lady,
She seemed to be rather tiny
I couldn't help thinking she might be quite shady.
I wondered if she was at all piny.
Before I could open my mouth,
She shouted, "For you, I have some sprites!"
I headed towards her, to the south,
Past some crisps and tights.
"But how did you know?" I asked,
"Do you want them or not?" she did say.
Silently, the sprites she passed.
Then vanished before I could pay.
As I walked away I hard a crackle
Or was it, perhaps, a hushed cackle
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