The Future of the Sale
- Steve Taite
- Feb 1, 2017
- 1 min read

They all lined up at the entrance,
Five hundred and a score.
The queue that started hours before,
Now circled round the store.
It was the first Saturday of January,
And some were looking rather pale.
But none would dream of leaving now,
Ten minutes before the sale.
—
The showroom was completely filled
With all the shapes and sizes.
For those outside in the freezing cold,
They were offering great prizes.
Women, girls and hopeful grans
All waited at the gate.
At the chime of nine
They all left the line
And ran in to buy a mate.
—
The Hubby sale comes but once a year.
It is the best time to make a catch.
After courting went ill
And romance hit the hill
Free enterprise took over the match.
For a reasonable fee
You take home what you see
And these hubbies won’t argue or cheat.
They are programmed to listen,
Wash dishes and iron.
Then late at night they are really a treat.
—
They will cuddle and spoil you,
Compliment and adore too,
And never, but never complain.
They will watch your fave soap
Without making a joke.
Your life will no longer be the same.
—
When you tire of a face
Well then simply replace
With some other you bought at half price.
Why not wake beside Brad,
Enjoy what Angelina had,
Then change to Johnny to add to the spice.