You might spot that this poem wasn't written for the tourist board, but if you ever get the chance to visit Melbourne (Australia) you must go to Victoria Markets, you name it - you can buy it there ! By the way, Kilmore is a local race track....
I'm walking around Victoria Markets,
(which are built on the site of Melbourne's oldest cemetery),
the hint of spring is in the air,
but the chill of winter lingers bravely on,
like the remaining chestnut sellers,
who make their last desperate calls,
before flying north for the summer.
Unlike the caged pigeons,
(three for five dollars).
For twenty bucks I could set twelve free,
but I keep my money,
and save it for a nag at Kilmore.
Across the aisle,
body pierced lesbians sell organic produce,
trying to save the environment,
but they too ignore the pigeons.
Just another meat market,
(and we all have danced to that music).
So it seems kind of fitting,
that the organ churns out its mechanical melody,
grinding on the souls of Melbourne's long forgotten dead.
Copyright Allen Jesson :) 2001