Poetry Pleases: The Fairground
June McCormick paints a colourful poetic portrait of a fair - a mobile hurdy gurdy town.
Gigantic tyres roll, carrying the brightly painted slabs
Of wood and metal waiting to give thrills
To children young and old, make them forget their ills
As they ride the rides and swing the swings
Rainbow lights whirling through their sights
And all the while the sweet green turf lies waiting unaware
They leave the motorway for narrow lanes
And as the dawn slides up out of the night
Silently they enter unsuspecting towns
And park their homes and all their wares
In the quiet sleeping midst of a community
Upon the sweet green turf
Then with precision born of years of practise
They haul and drag and screw and hoist the
Solid tons of metal, fit the seats into the giant wheel
Set up the rifle range, fix the hoop-la stall
Drape the fortune teller's hut with silk and all
Upon the sweet green turf
The people come with hard earned cash
Which they hand over carelessly to mount
The wooden horses, drive the angry dodg'ems
And scream and shout and lick their candy floss
When it comes swirling from the metal bin
All on the sweet green turf
The careless lads with knowing eyes
Swing easily from ride to ride
And local girls all innocent and fair
Intoxicated with excitement then and there
Give themselves to the loose limbed lads
All on the sweet green turf
At last it's time to move along, the fair
Has milked the site and must be gone
Back to the unfolding strips of grey
They drive their hurdy gurdy town away
To pastures new with a full purse,
Ready once more to rape the sweet green turf.
