Bargains Galore! Poem by Ernestine Northover

The erudite auctioneer, with a voice loud and clear,
Is selling off bizarre stuff, some of it is quite duff,
Things that other folk hate, which is then called top rate,
Yes, people will buy, but goodness knows why!

His gavel descends, then somebody spends.
They produce ready cash, for these goods we call 'trash'.
There are bargains galore, to go out through the door,
Though auctions require fees, which brings some to their knees.

All things can be viewed, with the right attitude,
By a true connoisseur, who is no amateur,
And we did make the grade, when we sold the 'teasmade',
Yep! the saleroom's real great, if you investigate.

Take some effects you don't like, perhaps the Van Dyke,
It should raise a high price, it's pretty fine merchandise.
With the bidding intense, you are kept in suspense,
'Til the very last bid, when you make a few quid.

Commission is paid, so how much have you made,
A reasonable pile, so the sale was worthwhile.
We'll find more to bring, 'French Lalique' or some 'Ming'.
As one never can tell, what treasures will sell.

Victorian, Edwardian, a harp or accordion,
Art Nouveau or Deco, a clock, TV or radio.
Anything and everything, 'Lots' tied up with string,
There's money here to accrue, want a stuffed cockatoo?