When you think of Yorkshire
    You may think of many places,
But when you think of Doncaster,
    You may well think of races.

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It’s horse racing I’m thinking of,
     A sport which brings great pleasure,
But the oldest classic race of all?
     Of course, the famed Saint Leger.

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But when you visit Doncaster
     Just make yourself at home:
Play golf, or try some angling
     Or you could go to the Dome.

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It’s here that you can climb a wall,
     Or swim, play squash or skate,
And in a most delightful way
      You’ll shed off all that weight.

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Transport’s played a vital role
     In this city’s claim to fame.
The stagecoach came upon the scene
     And things never were the same.

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The stagecoach brought the horses here,
     Which later led to races,
But think of railways, engineering;
    It’s what the town embraces.
 
Before we leave old Doncaster,
    There’s somewhere we must go:
You’ll find some stalls of many kinds
    With such good things on show.

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The traditional market has been crowned
     The best one of them all,
And the stallholders are rightly proud
    And truly walk quite tall.

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I hope within this little poem,
    This town has won your heart,
And do drop into Doncaster
    Before you must depart.

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Copyright on all my poems​​​

 

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