To Ponty Market, long ago
Went Auntie Mary, Em, and Jo.
And there I bought a black balloon,
With feathers on, that died too soon.
I saw there geese and ducks and hens
And big brown cows shut up in pens
And bales of cloth spread out on stalls
And bread and cheese in market halls.
In Ponty Market, long ago,
When I was much too young to know
That bread and cheese are good to buy
But black balloons just make you cry.
I composed this in the car when my 3 year old son asked for a poem about Pontypridd, which we were passing at the time.