Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

[vagabond]

 Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning.                      maybe you find a subtler word than frigid.   
If nothing else she’d never been,             
and I wanted to go. Dander past                      is dander a verb? if so i´d write "we dander past" 
stalls selling tattered books,                    you could leave out "stalls selling"
cherished ornaments with no home,         "and" before "cherished" and full stop after home?
vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon,                 consider a verb, to make it sound less like a series of impressions, presented to the reader, but more like a story. "at noon time they sold vegetables, picked at dawn" or something like that.
stalls flogging the latest catch, prime Irish Beef,    too many "ings" and "eds" , so maybe simply "stalls flogged the latest catch...". though i wonder if "flog" is the right word.. i thought of all things the prime beef was sold least cheap....
and i´d pull up "artisanal cheese" next to beef, just to mislead a bit more, concerning the double meaning.
artisanal cheese and sculptures made in drawing rooms.
Stalls ran by ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks                 even if the word has more than one meaning i think one "stall" is enough.
talking Vinyl and bemoaning current musical trends.  
Not forgetting stalls stockpiled with the obligatory                                just to make a full sentence of it: "stockpiled shelfs offered the obligatory leprechaun patterned pants. i have three pairs now and this makes me `a sucker for irish tat` in her eyes"
Leprechaun patterned novelty pants, I have three pairs now,               
a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it. And the potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made it,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to
quell that craving and set us up for the afternoon.           
 i experienced this culinary ending as less relevant than what came before, and the impression is not one i´d expect there (you seldom need mom´s home-made cooking if there is even the slightest hint of a love story).  
maybe the "sucker for irish tat" would do fine to make an ending (though i´m not quite sure if i get the point.. it seems to be something like "she doesn´t appreciate the wonder of st george´s market.. and others".. but then your poem seems to accentuate the clichés of that market, so i´m a bit puzzled about how the subject experiences it anyway)

i have a feeling i didn´t get what you wanted to convey, so probably most of my suggestions are not fitting. anyway, pick if you find something useful.