The dark earth smoulders twixt broken bodies strewn
Whilst pale ghosts dance to a deathly tune
Now is as good a time to tell
Of all our beloved friends that fell.
Tis hard to fathom the devastation
That cursed this war torn island nation
Friends young and old, some frail, some meek
Some in denial of their losing streak.
This verse is dedicated to dearly departed Debs
And a rag tag smattering of sorry urban sheds
Like cavernous Oak Furnitureland
where you can’t see the trees for the wood
Or sleepy Benson Beds, best avoided if you could.
Oh Forever 21, you were far too young to die
Though she still remains the apple of her father’s roving eye.
What happened to old Hawkins was, frankly, quite Bazaar
And Bon Marche was, sadly, never destined to go far.
Surviving world wars one and two
Was not an easy thing to do
So just imagine how it feels
When a microscopic virus eliminated Beales.
Weep not for the lovely ladies who suffered a terrible fate
They were middle aged, out of place, unfit and over weight.
I refer of course to Wallis, Dotty P, and Burton too
Taken to the cloud by angels, that’s why we cry Boohoo!
Throats slashed open with a deadly sharp razor
Bled quietly to death like the House of Fraser.
Soletrader died on the battlefield alone
Antler packed his bags and wandered off home
But you cannot charge a serving soldier to roam
(Unless you’re Carphone Warehouse or Vodafone)
The loss of those with children seems particularly unfair
Like cuddly Mamas & Papas and loving Mothercare
Your choice of burgers too is considerably diminished
Now that GBK and Byron are virtually finished.
Go Outdoors he ran away and is never coming back
Whilst mighty DFS up and swallowed Feather & Black
And yes, Victoria’s Secret is well and truly out
Though frankly it was nothing much to write home about.
A couple of ditzy hippies were disposed of in an instant:
Mad Laura Ashley and crazy Cathy Kidstone.
Much loved Warehouse suffered a massive heart attack
Whilst poor old TM Lewin lost the shirt right off his back.
The army that lost the greatest number of lives
Was the battalion of chefs all brandishing knives.
Leading from the front is never very easy
Just Ask, Cafe Rouge, Bella Italia, YoSushi! Wahaca, Wasabi, Pizza Express, Pizza Hut, Carluccio, Jamie Oliver, Itsu, Revolution…and Zizzi.
Lest we forget Quotidien, Hummingbird and the artisan bakers
Yes, the strongest of our fighters have gone to meet their makers
There are amputees aplenty in this fearful goddamn place
Like poor John Lewis, M&S and Paperchase.
Some say they saw Oasis holding up the rear
Turned out to be a mirage and not distinctly clear.
Accessorize & Monsoon drowned together in a storm
Resembling twin Ophelias…but in army uniform.
Far too many lives were lost upon this bloodied field
Oliver Sweeney tripped and died in his fancy heels
Alongside Aldo, the Shoe Zone and beautiful Bennett LK
Only the bravest foot soldier will return another day.
Our war photographer Jessop, he was absolutely fine
Until an unknown enemy missile came hurtling across his line.
A group of Yankees scarpered home to be closer to their mothers.
The deserters’ names I hear you ask? J Crew and the Brooks Brothers.
Some spirits they were lifted in the war to stay alive
But Pier1 decided it was best to simply take a dive.
A pair of dismal troopers died, neither men I know
One by the name of Peacock, the other M&Co.
Bandaged up like zombies they stagger up your street
With smashed and badly severed limbs limping to retreat
Oddbins, Clintons, TJ Hughes and Kikki K
Most are mortally wounded or stitched together in some way.
I must avoid salaciousness, as your solemn narrator
But Evan’s earthly departure did leave a plus-sized crater
Twas not an easy year for the fuller of physique
(just ask portly Philip Green about his winning streak )
And what of the loss of Topshop? Well it hurt an awful lot
Vanished over the horizon just like a super-yacht.
The carnage was extensive and the list is way too long
The bill will be expensive but the battle will be won
So when you see the Covid-reaper dancing up your street
Remind him in a year or two we’ll be back upon our feet!
For our soil has now been watered by a thousand merchants’ tears
On seeds that have been planted for a good two thousand years
Pushing through the ashes you’ll spot us green and strong
For this is my clarion prophecy, and remember…I’m seldom wrong.
Follow me on Twitter @retailfuturist for daily insights and wry retail based musings.
