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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required THE MARKET [ From days of old the gathering of country folk to sell their wares has taken place at the local market. Today, the tradition still carries on. ] The paddock at the end of town lay mostly bare all year, except when market day came 'round folks travelled far and near. With stalls all shapes and colours there and wares of ev'ry kind. The country folk would amble 'round to see what they might find. One chap was selling leather goods another works of art, while one plump lady offered me a home-made apple tart. I met a couple selling gems which they had mined themselves. Two sweet old dears sold pottery arrayed on many shelves. Hand crafted toys were on display the envy of a child. One mum she dressed down her young son for he'd been running wild. My eye then caught a bearded man who busked and played guitar, though stopped at times to quote some verse he was so popular. A little girl came running by face painted like a cat, her smile expressed her great delight, there was no doubt of that. With two hot dogs gripped in both hands a rather plump young lad, seemed quite content in growing up to look like his old Dad. Three boys on ponies rode around bushranging on their minds, old Ned I think would counsel them to leave it far behind. Soon folk began to pack and leave, but they'd return for sure. The paddock would lay bare a while 'til market day once more.
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