Contributed by Garris Hudson on Dec 20, 2020
Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
‘What am I bidden, good folks,’ he cried,
‘Who’ll start the bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar,’ then ‘Two; Only two?
Two dollars, and who’ll make it
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