Monday, 5 November 2012

Poetry: The allure of the funfair.

Bubblegum prizes and tall fluted drinks,
Child and teenager alike attend for to get their kinks.

With bashed up old rides and their rusting red paint,
Each ride the waltzers until many could faint.

You play the penny shoot outs and water gun games,
Hour after hour until the goldfish run out of names.

Those fish from the fair they live for many a year,
Whilst those young gypsies tend the ticket box with a fistful of beer.

When the funfairs in town,
Be sure to come down.

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