Lena Nilsson


At a small country fair in the big car park square,
With fair dinkum homemade on jars everywhere,
Sponges and cakes fight for space on the plates,
On top of grapes packed in old, wooden crates.

Colourful awnings galore to get rid of the glare
Seems good, but doesn't avoid the dusty hot air,
And the spoilt, fretful toddlers all people hate
So much more than the flies that so irritate.

‘How are you, Miss Brown?’ says adorable Claire.
The teacher runs sticky hands through her hair.
‘I can’t say that I fancy these hot summer fetes.
Prefer the shade to eat scones with Miss Bates.' 

Busy sellers are flitting and flogging their wares
When in second-hand, behind apples and pears,
Mister Tate finds a vase rather bold and ornate,
One his wife must display, but surely she’ll hate.

Unaware, Miss Brown cries out. All turn to stare. 
What gave this woman such a shattering scare?
The freshly baked scone, which she eagerly ate
Hurt her tooth as she chewed a stone in a date.

Winds from the desert will undoubtedly wear,
And soon tempers of terrors get ready to flare,
But as red toffee apples are cracking like slate,
Moods, sure as pie, transform to a blissful state.

Under a wattle tree waits a scraggly, grey mare. 
Tom and Sam pay their second ten dollar fare.
Old Bella trots countless times through a gate.
Who's gaining wealth at this shocking rate?

Claire, hot and bothered, has had her fair share,
And slumps down on a worn-out, rickety chair.
'Hey, let’s all go to the dam before it’s too late!
It’s boiling outside and we don’t want to wait!’

Such a scorcher, but stands begin to look bare. 
The crowds pack away all the rejects with care.
Decisions are made to chill out sounds great. 
To end with a frolic in water leaves no one irate. 

©  Copyright by Lena Nilsson

A Dusty and Hot Country Fair