The Friendly Stranger At Orange Street

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