In the heart of an old village setting
There stands an Antique dealers rooms
Full of rarest antiques brought for vetting
Plus two urns sold by Hilda May Coombs

Last valued in May, Nineteen thirty
Estimated at fifteen pound each
The value-er thought they were ‘dirty’
Uncertain what price range they’d reach

Hilda had sold them to Betty
For the price of just one hundred quid
They were no longer friends, all quite petty
And Betty decided, ‘Get Rid’

Hilda had nearly no money
Had in recent years always been sick
It was no laughing matter, ‘not funny’
Poor Hilda had ‘Left eye wink’ tic

She had noticed the urns in the window
And the interest had made her go in
Thought “I’ll miss the first game at the bingo
With my luck, I’m sure I won’t win”

At the sale rooms the buyers were massing
Old eggcups and teacups and mugs
The interest was more than just ‘passing’
But all eyes fell on Betty’s huge jugs