Chips and peas at Carvers,
Just by Trinity Church,
Sitting, feet dangling from
The little wooden perch
That ran around the sides
Of the big green marquee.,
An ice cream at Padgett's
We aways dropped in to see
They were family friends
So I always got one free,
And, spoiled child that I was,
They made such a fuss of me.
And rows and rows of stalls
Using all available space
So it always seemed crowded
The once busy Market place.
Now just the reflecting pools
Where the market used to be
No sign of its busy past ,
Now a place of serenity.
These are different times
Our city centre is dying
Our central market gone
No more market fish frying
Carvers now a restaurant
Though not so far away
From where they fed masses
Every single Market Day.
Although Pennas still exist
Padgetts seem to have gone,
Mainly supermarket stuff now
As things have moved on.
We shop by the internet
Or, if we shop locally at all,
Seldom get the craic from
The man on the Market stall.
I miss the old market place,
Brash and noisy and loud.
I miss the feeling of belonging
In any Market Day Crowd,
Its very easy to be nostalgic
For the not so good old days
But I really do at times miss
Those pastI much simpler ways.
I can still taste the fish in Carvers,
See the marquee with sawdust floor,
We don't seem to have these days
So many simple pleasures anymore.
