Auctions are coming and auctions do go

bidding on fishies we spend our dough.

At 10 in the morning we are looking sharp

eyeing bag 00-7 with that one big, fat carp.

Hour after hour we are sitting mesmerized

buying rootless plants, some really high prized.

Fearlessly Ken keeps charging forth,

breaking only when his voice gets too hoarse.

Taking over is big, bold Brad,

demanding high prices, and that is too bad.

Wanting the filters and high falutin'pumps,

already over the budget, it gives you the lumps.

That sucker behind you, not a fish you know,

it outbidding you steadily, 'cause he has the dough.

It gets even worse now since Dean picks up the pace

fast yelling the numbers like a real auction ace.

Out-tuckered and broke now you head for the till,

... bought much, way too much, this day was a kill.

The "yeller's" loud voice continues to drone

while you gather your goodies and are heading home.

Deep down in your heart now you do have to say

spent time with the "yellers" makes for a nice day.

May their voices recover with wine or some brew,

you just had to escape now, 'cause the place was a zoo.