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Dalton in Furness, England
I like the look of that. Victorian, possibly.
A wooden musical fruit bowl, 'Shall we bid? 'Yes I agree.
It looks nice in the photos, such sculpted marquetry
And looking at the bottom, distressed and worn, you'll do for me.
A week we waited nervously, behind the screen we hid
every minute we would press refresh, watching for a rival bid.
One morning we were shocked to find, 12 bids done overnight.
Though they hadn't topped my maximum bid, the cheeky little shite.
The auction over, we'd won at last, this lot we fought for most.
Then we were there, by the front door chair, just waiting for the post.
Our hopes amassed, it came at last, in bubble-wrap and elastic
Then I did unwrap this piece of crap, this mouldy lump of plastic!
Perhaps when filled with wooden fruit, it may not look so bad
Positioned on our Butchers block, it may not look so sad.
And the little classical tunes it plays, may save it from the trash can?
Classical, my assical! It sounds like an ice-cream van!