Car Booty

CAR BOOTY
(Michael Bellerby)

Oh why have I left my lovely warm bed?
I seem somehow not right in the head
It's half past six on a Sunday morn
This doesn't feel right it's not the norm
To go to a field to rummage through junk
Some things look all right I still must be drunk
To the sellers who've come to show us their wares
In mild disbelief the crowd offer back stares
They can't believe the mountains of tat
From rusty old pans to a stuffed Siamese cat
There's a chair with no legs a tent but no pegs
I've even seen some, scour the boxes for dregs
There's a train with no wheels, and men doing deals
There's even a woman who's bought shoes with no heels
There's a tank with a crack, a man who swears he'll be back
Then he's seen leaving the site, in an old 'flasher' Mac
But these places are packed, have we all lost our mind
Or are we praying there's treasure still out there to find
For there will be one day, someone's old pot
Will turn out to be Ming and worth quite a lot
But for most it's a laugh seeing things from the past
I'm going again next week as I did the last
Because I've caught the bug, Car Boot sales for me
And now there's no-where on Sunday's than I'd rather be.