The Market

Written by: Merv Webster

[ 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.