Lyrics
Saturday square, and the stalls are in rows, Marrows like trumpets and onions in bows. I came with a basket, a hat and a plan, To win the small ribbon from Mrs. Sullivan. Forty years I've watched her take the prize, Now there's a gleam in my determined eyes. Put the pumpkin on the podium, let the whole square sing, Blue rosette and a trembling hand, oh what a little thing! It's not a crown, it's not a throne, it's just a squash and me, But I'm standing tall in the market hall, as proud as I can be! The judge wears gloves and he taps every skin, He hums to the carrots and leans in to grin. The baker is whistling, the cheesemonger prays, The crowd holds its breath for the thirty-second day. Forty years I've watched her take the prize, Now the whole town's looking at me with surprise. Put the pumpkin on the podium, let the whole square sing, Blue rosette and a trembling hand, oh what a little thing! It's not a crown, it's not a throne, it's just a squash and me, But I'm standing tall in the market hall, as proud as I can be! Oh, the little victories are the ones that stay, Pinned on a coat on a cold grey day. Mrs. Sullivan's smiling, she lifts up my hand, And the whole town cheers like a marching band. Put the pumpkin on the podium, let the whole square sing, Blue rosette and a trembling hand, oh what a little thing! It's not a crown, it's not a throne, it's just a squash and me, But I'm standing tall in the market hall, as proud as I can be! Blue rosette, a little thing, Let the whole square sing.