You know that spring is close at hand;
     The yard has turned to slop.
The winter projects all complete
     Are stacked up in the shop.
Spring fever hits and we resist
     But all to no avail.
The only sure-fire antidote:
     Attend an auction sale.

To justify an auction trip
     Around my house is tough.
My wife is thoroughly convinced
     I have way too much stuff.

“But dear,” I say in my best way,
     “Attending auctions ain’t a vice.
I only go this time of year
     To check out a fair price.”

“I have no purchases in mind.
     I only want to see,
If that John Deere dealer late last fall
     Got the best of me.”

She looks me right between the eyes;
     She has known me for too long.
She’s sure I have no self-control;
     I’ve seldom proved her wrong.

So I dig out my auction clothes,
     And load the pickup truck.
Put on my favorite beet seed hat,
     The one that brings me luck.

I come to meet the neighbors,
     Have a donut and a Coke.
To talk about the weather
      And hear the latest joke.

Just to stand and hear the chant
     Is somehow very nice.
But I’m curious about the sale,
     I listen for the price.

Then it overcomes me,
     Though it’s not something I need.
They’re about to sell it way too cheap;
     I buy it out of greed.

Now it seems I’m on a roll,
     There is not a way to stop.
Soon I own things for the house,
      The cottage and the shop.

I see my banker watching me.
     That shuts down my rapid pace,
And makes me think of going home,
     And the questions I will face.

I can justify the nuts and bolts,
     But not the pictures of old actors.
It’s for the best that I got stopped
     Before they sold the tractors.

Now I had better load my stuff,
     It’s getting pretty late.
To be an auction junkie
     Somehow seems my fate.
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