On the fourth Monday in November in Bern, Switzerland, there is an onion market. This is not just a market with onions but a world-renown market with onions. In the evening there are ironic poetry recitals on the events of the past year in local taverns – How apt! It is a diary date that friends of ours cannot miss. Until I started my research (five minutes ago on Google!) I had not appreciated the significance of this massive event to Bern-folk…
Some friends of ours that live in Devon
Have flown to Bern, this week’s onion heaven!
They’ve gone to see the nighttime markets,
Onions and onions, no other food (or carpets!)
There are onions carved to look like castles,
Cars and coaches, Christmas parcels!
Onion people wearing onion socks,
And some that are carved like cuckoo clocks!
People in costume, the squares do roam,
Fight each other with confetti thrown!
In the taverns there’s ironic verse,
With every drink it gets worse!
Our friends by evening are on their knees,
Want a glühwein? Oh yes please!
Back at the hotel after all their wanderings,
The last thing they’ll want are onion rings!
© Baldock Bard 2012
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