At The Auction Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
One less clock for the feather duster
For somebody's trash is another man's treat
Keep an eye for the best deal buster

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
See collections of train sets muster
Stamp albums fill some enthusiast's bag
Or a pearl necklace that's kept its lustre

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
The novice seller is all a-fluster
Her Japanese tea set's on sale next
Today will it be a record buster?

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
The auctioneer is a seasoned hustler
For every item, commission's paid
He serves as a stand- in loss adjuster

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
Here's a bidder, all brash, all bluster
Will he clinch the deal on the copper pot?
Who's up next on the porter roster?

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
A small boy covets a cowboy holster
His father is quick to drag him away
‘Today I'll bid on a doll for your sister'

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
Now it's the ring from a deceased spinster
Jilted upon her wedding day
Left alone in the cold York Minster

The gavel goes up, the gavel goes down,
Gone in a flash, like a quick cat's whisker
The sale room's left with its silent goods
Listen! A long dead owner's whisper…