Two brothers
Almost beyond middle aged
Hardly well dressed
Although one is for sure
Sharper than the other
An older woman
With a clay compact complexion
And a good hat
With a broad velvet rim
The smiling man
With the bidding catalogue
Among a group of friends
Or well wishers
And the lad
In the ring, with a stick
To turn the cows, in calf
Steadily around
We, we are observers
And you, though a regular
You only came for the day
Later
Back your forty miles to Boston
To the thousand of acres
Of the potato king
Before the marriages fell apart
How hideous
To have worn that soft cotton
Silk striped multi-coloured shirt
How obvious
That even though you talk
Of yourself as the country boy
You could not be less at home
Anywhere than as here today
In the cattle market
Where the Lincolnshire Reds
Are prized
For their valued price of breeding
