’Will the market be gone’’?

Under the town hall clock people meet

Through the crowds and milling feet

In all weathers, through the rain and the shine

Don’t remember when it showed the right time

High above the market so tall

Sticking out from that yonder wall

Its Hands have stood still for many a year

Caused possible by, broken wire or gear

I sat on a bench in the market place

Looked to the clock, there’s an empty space

Change will come to these surrounds

At a cost of some million pounds

New planters suggested with money that’s spent

Whilst some folk remember the old ones unkempt

New paths to go in or so says the blurb

A step back in time, a trip up the kerb

Relocate the stalls for the work to go on

Then before we all know it, ‘’Will the market be gone’’?