a poem by William Willis, Scotland

Glasgows Barras were bursting apart at the seems.
A childs eyes scanning the toys of its dreams.
Buy yer biscuits, yer towels, yer meat at the stalls.
Get yer antiques and pottery and porcelean dolls.

The weekend brought punters from near and afar.
With trendy clothes and their big fancy cars.
It was famous like Paris or Moscows Red Square.
Come visit Paddys Market,that"s a vision so rare.

Buy a hammers a hoover or a bicycle pump.
Old sewing machine that was found in the dump.
Black and white tellys , fake cds and fags.
Old couches and chairs and some well worn old rags.

Two quarters of sweeties,they"ll only cost you coppers.
M.B. Bars and Bon-Bons and the old Chelsea Whoppers.
With bootlegs and pirate recordings galore.
You"de walk round all day ,till yer feet, they were sore.

Through my eyes .as a child.. it was the real deal.
Seeing bargains a plenty and the excitement i"d feel.
And now that I"m older and wiser i see.
The Barras Markets not what it once used to be.

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