Driving Home On A Cloud Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

I'm known as the Wheeler and Dealer,
in my head there exists a smart feeler
and I push down the price
as they try to be nice
to this little old bumbling healer.

Thus I play the wit-matching game
and I never will sign my own name
'til the price has been crushed
and the salesman sits hushed
as his profit ain't matching his aim.

But I figure they would not agree
to a deal with a wheeler like me
if deep inside their sleeve
did not live a reprieve
that will always safeguard their best fee.

In the end we can all be quite proud,
shaking hands, talking somewhat too loud
when musical roar
leaves the showroom floor
I am driving straight home on a cloud.