The furniture goes for a song, now.
The sixties had horrible taste.
But the trouble is this—they've included
Some better things, too, in their haste.
Were they wrapped in the antimacassars,
Or sunk in a sofa of plush?
Did an Angelican bishop forget them,
And leave them behind in the crush?
Who'll buy?
Here's a turnex. It's going quite cheaply.