A
Day In The Square
Prologue:
The
Cathedral Square Christchurch N.Z. Popularly known
as "The Square" Home to the neo-Gothic cathedral
that dominates this interesting area of Christchurch. "The
Square", once just a tram stop, is now an ever popular
meeting place for locals and visitors alike. Plaques commemorating
the landing of the first four ships, "early settlers"
can be seen inlaid into the tiled walkway outside the main
post office, and with lunchtime concerts and the controversial
'wizard' dominating speakers corner, one can be assured
of a very interesting time. The recent return of the trams
add to the cosmopolitan but relaxing feel of the square.
My poem, 'A day in the square', is the result of many days
watching and listening. It is purely a tongue in cheek,
light-hearted view of the square we all enjoy.
A day in the square is a great education,
Men in bright gowns, girls all clean shavin'
Kids running riot, out of control,
Skinheads
and bikies with nowhere to go.
New Kiwis talk in many tongues,
When I have trouble conversing in one.
Long legged fraulines, walking tall,
Orientals
with almond eyes that tell bugger all.
Policemen slowly walking their beat,
Stop
for a chat, or a bite to eat.
Street cleaners keeping the
square spic and span,
Sweeping the kerb and picking
up cans.
Down and outs collecting up their meagre possessions,
School children on their way to early lessons,
Office workers enjoying their last cigarette,
Coffee machine not working yet.
Take a deep breath of nice fresh air,
This is the start of a day in the square.
The market is open, the town is buzzin',
Mothers with children already fussin',
Bleary eyed tourists looking for bargains,
Into the coach and off to the gardens.
What day is it? where are we?
Hate the "cawfie",
love the tea,
Just love those wee lambs,
aren't they just cute,
Hurry up Mabel, or I'll give
you the boot,
A stony glare soon puts "him"
in his place,
Pick up the bag, wipe the egg
off your face.
The tram's on its way to a tour of the city;
Nice friendly drivers, very witty.
It's
nearly lunch time back in the square,
Young ladies putting plaits in their hair,
I could go on for hours and hours.
There's
a nice stall with lovely bright flowers.
Listen to the music from a distant land,
With the one that you love hand-in-hand.
Market stall of many dimensions,
One demands
special attention;
My wife's - she has watches
and
Sunglasses and hand painted teddies,
Just
waiting for you if you have the ready's.
That was the only commercial, my friend,
We're now commercial-free right to the end.
Hopefuls doing the menial chore,
Looking
for work, knocking on doors,
Professional people off for
lunch,
Won't be back early, but that's only a hunch,
More hopefuls queuing at immigration
Kiwi
wanna-be's from every nation.
Lunch wrapping blown by an easterly wind,
This is life in the square my friend.
Workers replacing broken tiles,
That seem to be going for miles
and miles,
Young'uns on the dole or on
some benefit,
Always broke, spent most of
it,
Got to get a few more dollars,
Be quick before the police
feel your collars.
Citizens starting to feel the strain,
No bloody bus, home late again.
Kids getting tired, Mum's getting
grumpy,
Nothing for tea yet, and its only monday.
The market is over, not a bad day,
Made
a few bob to keep the bailiff at bay.
Lights going on in the city,
Darkness is coming, looks quite
pretty,
The square being taken over by the night population,
Friendly, light-hearted, no confrontation,
Visitors mingling from all nations,
Back
to the hotel for dinner and bed,
Others
want somewhere to rest their head.
The stars
are out, the moon is bright,
This is a good time to say
goodnight,
From a day in the square.
(C) Copyright 1999
TIC
All Rights Reserved
