Poem telling the awful truth about Adelaide.

One week of the year
Adelaide once came alive,
Now the place is dead.
Nothing ever happens there
Fifty-two weeks of the year.

It used to have the
Australian Grand Prix, so for
One week of each year,
Adelaide was part alive
Now it’s dead the whole year round.

When the Grand Prix moved
From Adelaide to Melbourne,
Adelaide went dead,
Its last life blood stopped flowing
Everyone went to Melbourne.

Yes for just one week
Every year, Adelaide,
Used to start to thrive,
But after the Grand Prix moved
Adelaide had nothing left.

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