"Of eBay I've had quite enough!"
You declare, as you browse through more stuff,
"But there's Hintons and Rose,
And - oh look, what are those?"
So no-one is fooled by your bluff.
Yet more shoddy, overpriced trash,
With paint slopped on over the flash,
Greets your wearying gaze -
There must be more ways
You could fritter your hard-earned cash?
Before I go out of my mind,
What is it you’re hoping to find?
What’s the dream? What’s the Grail?
What’s the sting in the tail?
Please explain, if you’d be so kind.
Buy soldiers, if buy them you must,
But by now I would think you’d have sussed
You’d be best, in the end,
Doing swaps with a friend,
Or someone you know you can trust.
But the postman still comes to the door,
And you open your mail with a roar:
“That seller’s a bad’un,
They’re never by Stadden!”
I really can’t take any more.
...“If that’s a dragoon,
I’m the Man in the Moon!”
No, dear, you’re a foolish old bore.
© MSF 2011
Any association with any real person, living or dead, or in any intermediate state, is entirely unintentional. Especially anyone named Foy.
As a late afterthought, here is a faint response, borne on the wind...
"I once almost had them, you know -
Hinton Hunt light dragoons in a row,
But I lost them, gawd blimey,
Outbid by the Limey,
With only four seconds to go!"
Jolly good! I think many of us can relate.
ReplyDeleteYou know you could just get the plastic ones, to go with their Spanish guerrillas? Hardly anyone would know.
ReplyDelete