My wife’s brainwave the other day; for clearing out our trash
Was to sell it a boot sale, and make some extra cash
The idea I thought was very good; we’d tidy up the place
Get rid of all that useless junk, and gain some extra space

So we sorted out some bits and bobs, and the odd knick-knack
Someone was bound to buy it, if we called it bric-a-brac
We loaded up the car so full, until nothing else would fit
We filled up every inch of space, every little bit

Our stall we set; then waited, for some unsuspecting sap
To hand his money over, and relieve us of this crap
Slowly it did start to sell; I rubbed my hands with glee
The tables were all emptying; at home that space was free

The boot sale now was closing, no longer here, to dwell
I put tables back into the car, and some bits that didn’t sell
Then alarmingly, my wife, who had only gone to take a look,
Returned with stuff that she had bought; far more than we took

There’s a lesson to be learnt here, but it’s one I learnt too late
When you’ve sold all that you can, pray do not hesitate
Get away quick, don’t look around, go straight home, at all cost
Or not only is your profit gone, but that precious space is lost