If fools went not to market bad wares would not be sold.
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If fools went not to market, bad wares would not be sold.
The Sailor and the Market Man
'I ask you to see reason'
Says the sailor who is stern;
'You know full well that from the sea
A living I must earn;
I'll bother you to shake on it,
I haven't got all day;
Come on now make your mind up,
It ain't a lot to pay! '
'My friend, your price is far too high'
The market-man declares,
'Go find another buyer now
Who'll rid you of your wares.
I know the fish you bring to sell
Are fat and fresh and sound,
But I must make a living too
By watching every pound.'
The sailor and the market-man
They argue every day,
As if there's no tomorrow,
And each must have his say.
The sailor and the market-man
At odds they'll always be,
Until they've taken all
The little fishes from the sea.
Written Dec 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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Food Left To Rot
market price
market fixed
market profit
not worth picking
costs more picking
than sold price paid
never fruit picked
never taste eaten
never starving fed
global waste sickening
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Market Day
There’s a market in our town, two days a week.
It’s nice to have a browse and take a quick peek.
There’s a riot of colours up and down the street,
And mouth-watering smells from all the food to eat.
There’s an explosion of different sights and sounds,
And dozens of people are leisurely milling around.
At the market, there’s always a great atmosphere,
And there’s nothing for sale there which is too dear.
A mobile van serves up spicy German bratwurst,
Plus a variety of different drinks to quench your thirst.
On one stall, they sell leather purses and handbags:
Cheap ones, plus designer ones, for the would-be WAGs.
In his mobile truck, a rotund butcher chops up some meat:
He promises his customers that his prices can’t be beat.
There’s a stall which sells low price pet supplies.
This is always a big attraction for the penny wise.
Hoping that none of his food will end up in the waste,
The Mediterranean food stall holder offers a free taste.
There are crisps and cakes stacked in crates,
Which are not long off of their sell by date.
From yet another stall, drifts an amazing perfumed smell.
They sell a variety of novelty soap and bath bombs as well.
A Jeweller displays a variety of items made of silver and gold.
He also buys any old unwanted jewellery, if it is being sold.
Then, of course, there’s the doughnut man –
Of this particular stall, I’m a very big fan!
Each market trader has their own unique call,
Trying to attract the customers to their stall.
They brave all weathers – the heat and the freezing cold,
Hoping that, by the close of day, their wares will be sold.
At the end of the day, there are real bargains to be found,
Such as a box of mixed fruit or veg for only a pound.
Come late afternoon, they pack up after a long day.
They load up their vans and are soon on their way.
When they have all gone, all that is left is a space,
And, of the market, there isn’t left a single trace.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Damascus
Set up places for yourselves in Damascus,
For my lover is like two small flocks of goats;
And i am ready to market my wares with you all.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Never Been Sold Before
You ask me, babe, "Can you work tonight?"
I've been up, babe, since broad daylight
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
Yeah, I'm stacked nice, they really like my style
Fifty bucks, babe, ha, can't even buy my smile
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me before
I just can't become your lousy who-o-ore
I-I-I-I find I come around just to lay this money on you, babe
I'm sick of streets, chicks and dicks, and I'm,
I'm really sick of you
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
I just can't believe that you're selling me,
You never sold me befo-ore
I just can't become your little whore
No, no, no, no
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
Oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had again
Oh-oh, I've never been sold before
And I'll never be had a-gain
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do You Post A Poem Posted Days Ago?
i notice it
you keep on posting
and reposting poems
days ago
like wares
in the flea market
left unsold
last sunday
on a monday
i see your
poem again
looks like
a commodity
and you the
poet becomes
the cheap
vendor
shouting
for the
possible
victim?
i see, poems
too are goods
that you display
over and over
again
and reading
them makes
me feel
like i am
this shopper
repelled
by this
persistent
hawker?
ok, today
is another
poetic market
day
excuse me,
how much
is that poem?
yes the one
with lesser words
the one that
is worn out
yes, the one
that never
sells
yes the one
that is
outmoded
discount, please.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Desert Walk
Two maidens in the desert walk,
Windy sands blow, they don't talk,
Selling their wares in the market place,
Weathered look on charming face.
In The Market Of Ideas...
in the market there are good apples,
luscious ones and we buy them and we do not regret
the money that we part with,
there are rotten ones, who buys them must be fools
ditto with our creations,
we think what we make are the best
in the market of ideas
we rely on the proof of the goodness when others begin to buy
what we display
we think they are best
but look at the flies, look at the the emptiness of the market place
smell the stink,
then we decide not to display at all
we keep what we make as our own
after all, it is ours, and we protect them in our homes
not for sale
but for domestic consumption
we do not wish to compete
we are home now and then we are happier this way.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Product Appeal
Mine is for niche, not wide market promotion
And only some have opted to' buy the full version'
The parts are functioning and well organised
But I, forever scrutinise
If I am not happy with my wares
Who is going to want to buy shares?
poem by Stevie Taite
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Sold Me Out
I always knew that theyd get me somehow sooner or later,
But with a bullet in the head, a knife in the back,
Not a pocket calculator.
Sorry mister, youre all wiped up,
Youre all washed up,
Sold you out.
Got no dreams, got no ambition,
Cant decide, cause theres no decision,
Got no claim to any position,
Cant compete with the competition.
Youre always complaining,
Its so depressing,
But if youre old enough,
Start to confess it.
You say, you sold me out,
To get a better deal for yourself,
You sold me out,
And now we want some of your precious wealth,
Because you sold me out.
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out.
You sold me out,
To get a better deal for yourself.
You sold me out,
And now its every man for himself.
Work all your life, put the money in the bank,
Sign on the dotted line.
Try to draw it out, the jokes on you,
Put up the empty sign.
Sorry mister, were all sold out.
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out.
You, Im talkin to you.
You sold me out,
To get a better deal for yourself.
You sold me out,
And now we want some of your precious wealth.
And sell you out,
Like you sold me out.
Are you in so deep, that you cant get out?
Got no dreams, got no ambition,
Cant decide, cause theres no decision,
Got no claim to any position,
Cant compete with the competition.
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out,
Sold me out.
(repeat)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who'll Buy Gods Of Love
OF all the beauteous wares
Exposed for sale at fairs,
None will give more delight
Than those that to your sight
From distant lands we bring.
Oh, hark to what we sing!
These beauteous birds behold,
They're brought here to be sold.
And first the big one see,
So full of roguish glee!
With light and merry bound
He leaps upon the ground;
Then springs up on the bougd,
We will not praise him now.
The merry bird behold,--
He's brought here to be sold.
And now the small one see!
A modest look has he,
And yet he's such apother
As his big roguish brother.
'Tis chiefly when all's still
He loves to show his will.
The bird so small and bold,--
He's brought here to be sold.
Observe this little love,
This darling turtle dove!
All maidens are so neat,
So civil, so discreet
Let them their charms set loose,
And turn your love to use;
The gentle bird behold,--
She's brought here to be sold.
Their praises we won't tell;
They'll stand inspection well.
They're fond of what is new,--
And yet, to show they're true,
Nor seal nor letter's wanted;
To all have wings been granted.
The pretty birds behold,--
Such beauties ne'er were sold!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Fools Gold
(intro)
Fools gold, sparkling like the midnight sun
Fools gold, touch the ivory handles on my gun
(sold out to me? ), charlatans and thieves
(so wrong not to see? ), jokers and the priests?
Fools gold, stranded on a (point gloss? ) sea
Fools gold, nothing here and nothing to see
(sold out to me? ), the weasels and the feared
(and its so wrong not to see? ), the ghosts of the disappeared
All gone away...
(instrumental)
Sometimes, when Im touched by love, by hate, or by the grace of god
Sometimes, in the dark when hope is fading,
Or no longer flies,
I wont sympathize
Spend my time getting high
Someone came to rescue me, lit up like a christmas tree
Tired of living on my own, someone came and take me home
Sometimes, this jungle life is boring, pawing,
Ready for a feast, someone kill the beast
Outside, streets are teeming, breathing heavy,
Ready to explode, my brothers heavy load,
What you reap is what you sow
Someone came to rescue me
Lit up like a christmas tree
Stranded here on my own
Someone came to take me home
(instrumental)
Someone came to rescue me, lit up like a christmas tree
When Im out here on my own, someone came and took me home
Someone came to rescue me, lit up like a christmas tree
Stranded here on my own, someone came and took me home
(instrumental fade out)
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Price Of The Cock
THE PRICE OF THE COCK
A WOMAN STOLE A COCK AND TOOK IT TO THE MARKET TO SELL IT, WHILST AT THE MARKET, SMARTER THIEVES STOLE THE COCK FROM HER AND SHE WENT BACK HOME SOBER!
ON HER ARRIVAL AT HER HOUSE, AN INQUISITIVE NEIGHBOUR ASKED, DEAR NEIGHBOUR, YOUR COCK WHICH YOU TOOK TO THE MARKET, HOW MUCH DID YOU SELL IT? SHE ASKED AND THE SOBER WOMAN REPLIED, IT WAS SOLD FOR EXACTLY THE SAME PRICE FOR WHICH IT WAS BOUGHT!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Sold My Soul
I prayed to God and jesus
But I guess they didnt hear
My sacrfice was useless
My pleas fell on deaf ears
So I cried in desperation
Bowed to evil sorcery
I looked to the lord in heaven
But he must have looked away
My crying eyes repentant
Please send her love to light my day
So I cried in desperation
Bowed to evil sorcery
I sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul to the devil
So I cried in desperation
Bowed to evil sorcery
I sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul to the devil
Sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul
Sold my soul
Sold my soul to the devil
To the devil
Sold my soul
Sold my soul
I sold my soul
I sold my soul
I sold my soul to the devil
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Very very cheap
In the market they are sold
Still they bloom
quote by by Abdul Wahab
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Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
quote by John Dryden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When fools go to market the huckster gets money.
Market Square
I had a penny,
A bright new penny,
I took my penny
To the market square.
I wanted a rabbit,
A little brown rabbit,
And I looked for a rabbit
'Most everywhere.
For I went to the stall where they sold sweet lavender
("Only a penny for a bunch of lavender!").
"Have you got a rabbit, 'cos I don't want lavender?"
But they hadn't got a rabbit, not anywhere there.
I had a penny,
And I had another penny,
I took my pennies
To the market square.
I did want a rabbit,
A little baby rabbit,
And I looked for rabbits
'Most everywhere.
And I went to the stall where they sold fresh mackerel
("Now then! Tuppence for a fresh-caught mackerel!").
"Have you got a rabbit, 'cos I don't like mackerel?"
But they hadn't got a rabbit, not anywhere there.
I found a sixpence,
A little white sixpence.
I took it in my hand
To the market square.
I was buying my rabbit
I do like rabbits),
And I looked for my rabbit
'Most everywhere.
So I went to the stall where they sold fine saucepans
("Walk up, walk up, sixpence for a saucepan!").
"Could I have a rabbit, 'cos we've got two saucepans?"
But they hadn't got a rabbit, not anywhere there.
I had nuffin',
No, I hadn't got nuffin',
So I didn't go down
To the market square;
But I walked on the common,
The old-gold common...
And I saw little rabbits
'Most everywhere!
So I'm sorry for the people who sell fine saucepans,
I'm sorry for the people who sell fresh mackerel,
I'm sorry for the people who sell sweet lavender,
'Cos they haven't got a rabbit, not anywhere there!
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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