"What am I bid?" the man up front
demanded us to tell.
"A billion quid!" the cattle man
responded, in a yell.
"I'll make it two," the miner roared,
"I can't get enough coal!"
"It's three from me," the logger cried,
"and I'll throw in my soul!"
"We'll start at eight," the auctioneer
declared; his face was grim.
The diamond merchant offered twelve,
responding on a whim.
"Twelve billion pounds is not enough,"
the oil tycoon chimed in,
"I'd be ashamed if chicken feed
allowed that jerk to win."
The bidding went at blinding pace,
for best part of an hour;
and in the end, all but the one
were left with faces sour.
"At 30 billion pounds, I got
a bargain," muttered he,
"and now, I own the land, the air
and almost all the sea."
The licitation ended with
the gavel's hammer sound;
to satisfy a billionaire,
the cost proved quite profound.
And so, the kings of industry
determined our net worth,
thus making sure we'll be the last
to walk on planet Earth.
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Author Notes
The figures thrown about in this piece -- a billion to thirty billion -- might seem ridiculously low to "purchase" the Earth. However, in industries such as mining, agriculture, fisheries and forestry, decisions are made all over the world every day involving these sorts of figures, any one of which could have the ability to cost our children their future.
Today's word: licitation (n.) to sell at auction; to sell to the highest bidder.
My much-treasured Christmas present for 2017 is a book by Paul Anthony Jones: "The cabinet of linguistic curiosities". Each page contains a descriptive story about some obscure or archaic word. It occurred to me it would be a fun exercise to try and write, each day, a poem featuring the "word of the day" from the book.
Thanks for reading.
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