Down in the market where life runs free,
Where daily stories are shared,
And there is lots of stuff to see.
Exotic looking fruits to smell and to try,
Stacked high on rough work-man’s tables,
Laid out under a clear blue mountain sky.
Men with packed trolleys weave and bob,
Their job not done ‘tll all are sold,
Locals mingle with tourists, quite a mob.
Dogs bark, kids lark and jokes are told,
All humanity is here in shared pursuits,
Drink your beer while its still cold.
© David R. Durham
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