Exquisite
‘We’re start the bidding at twenty,’ he said
Raising the gavel in line with his head
His voice was posh, his delivery fast
His stare was stern, his knowledge vast
‘Ladies and Gents, the first item today
This exquisite eighteenth century tray
Antique George 11 Silver Salver made
In 1735 and what we call in the trade
The top of the heap, la creme de la cream
The star on the tree, the auctioneers dream
A charming piece in circular form
Raised -scrolled- hoof -feet , it ain’t the norm
Allow your eyes to feast on the border
Moulded by a craftsman, made to king’s order
Imagine the elegance as the butler served tea
To visiting Germans from uber das sea
Forty I’m bid from the chap at the back
Wait , sixty at least or I’ll get the sack
Look how it glistens, and shouts historical charm
Eighty she says , I’m not twisting your arm
Eighty in the room, can we go a tad more
It’s worth more than that, who’ll go eighty-four
Thank you, madam, your taste is sublime
Any more offers, anything online?’
Crash smacked the gravel. ‘Sold’ he cried out,
‘To the lady over there with a face like a trout
“Eighty-four pence, wow what a deal”
Unable to hide her inexorable zeal
‘S’not pence, madam, nor hundreds nor tens
It’s thousands, thousands that you need to spends
“I ain’t got that money, This is a farce
So you shove your Salver up your Auctioneers arse”
Michael. 2022