Song of the Apple Market   Part I

Introduction

Now, I like apples. In fact I get through so many that I sometimes wonder whether I am haunted by an apple-stealing cousin of a poltergeist. Be that as it may, because they are quite heavy, I tend to pick them up wherever I am. This is the starting point for this rather sad little tale.

Those of you who know Kingston will recognize the locations. There have been some changes in the last decade or so, but the details were correct at the time of composition. (Posted 12/10.)

Song of the Apple Market - Part I

I was coming through my local town a little while ago,
When I thought, 'I need some apples; my stocks are getting low.
'I'll buy them in the Apple Market; that's not far from here.
'They always have some nice ones and they shouldn't be too dear.'

So I walked along a narrow street and past a new arcade;
Admired some patterned paving which had recently been laid;
But when I reached the Apple Market, what was I to see?
Just a row of wooden shutters where the apples used to be.

So hang your heads and dirges sing.
Let souls in torment wail!
For in the Apple Market now
There is no fruit for sale;

And marvel not to see the deepening
Furrows in my brow;
I cannot buy my apples
In the Apple Market now.

They've potted plants and wedding dresses, sweets and cigarettes.
Across the way's a bookie's, if you want to place some bets.
They've CDs and they've tape cassettes; the radio shop's still there,
But search all day, you'll never find a single peach or pear.

The ancient inn will serve you refreshing draughts of ale;
The health food shop has several kinds of herbal tea for sale;
And then there is the baker's shop with bread and cakes galore;
But there isn't anybody selling apples any more.

So hang your heads, etc.

Now click on Part II.