Coaches arrive from over the UK
To visit Bury on market day
The famous market is quite renown
In this vibrant bustling town
Over three hundred stalls lined row by row
Allowing movement with easy flow
Selling everything from clothes to food
With something to suit the shoppers mood
Cafes nestled in the square close by
Choices galore for all to try
Grab a bite and rest weary feet
Brass band playing, oh what a treat
The famous black pudding is worth a try
But only for the most discerning eye
Not considered everyone's cup of tea
Cos it's made from pigs blood you see
Heading for home the shoppers go
Laden with bags and trolleys in tow
Coach engines begin to roar
Drivers put the pedal to the floor
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem