Tuesday, 6 September 2011


Poem 39 of 230:  FOR A MATE

When about to move again,
    I went down to a shop
Where one can go and bargain
    Away, for not much chop,
Used goods that are, in the main,
    No longer worth the cop.

But, from that day, I recall
    (Just ahead in the line)
Two young guys - one big, one small -
    Cashing goods that looked just fine.
After reckoning them all,
    The shop clerk said, in resign:

“Why the hell you sellin’ these -
    Don’t you need ‘em no more?”
Neither happy with the fees,
    The reply sure sounded sore:
“Our mate is down on his knees -
    He’s been kicked-right out the door.”

(C) David Franks 2003