The Fair is like a tiny town,
No sooner built than taken down.
Its anthem is a fiddle tune,
Its flag the fleeting harvest moon.
The cars in town are pink and teal
And tethered to a Ferris wheel;
The people in them laugh and squeal
Despite how motion-sick they feel.
To be a hero at the Fair,
Just win a fuzzy Teddy bear
Or make a toothpick ferryboat
That captivates the judges’ vote.
This town, the Fair, is nicely planned:
Nutritionists have all been banned
And food is always close at hand,
From ice cream to tempura stand.
We thank them all, this time of year,
The friendly farmers far and near
Whose ribbon-winning sheep and cows
Sign autographs and take their bows.
The awe-inspired public strolls
Past fattened pigs and baby foals;
The very sight renews our souls
(Along with luscious lobster rolls).
