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I was at a bull sale just last week,
It was a beautiful out, the kind of day you wish would never end.
The weather was great, the company was fair,
And the offering was stacked, all the way from lot 1 to 110.
Lunch was served, pie was eaten.
The buyers shuffled into their seats.
At one o’clock high, a prayer was said,
And the breeder began to speak.
It was the usual remarks,
thank you’s, and reminders.
The crowd sat in anticipation,
like walk-behinders.
The auctioneer started to jabber,
Lot 1 was proudly presented for the crowd.
As the auctioneer began his chant, however,
There was a brief pause, then a boom oh so loud.
The auctioneer had fainted on the spot.
No one knew what to do.
The breeder called 911,
The ringmen stared with their mouths askew.
The auctioneer came to after a few minutes,
The paramedics loaded him in their rig.
The crowd was froggy, the coffee stale,
And the crew was ready to renege.
But the breeder wanted to press on,
You can’t blame the guy, he’d spent a year waiting for this day.
“Everything and everyone is sitting on go,” he said,
“We just need an auctioneer to grab the mic and take it away!”
So the breeder and his family developed a plan,
They’d host an open call for an auctioneer.
They’d spend the next hour holding auditions,
A task more difficult than spotting Santa’s reindeer.
There was a panel made up of three judges:
The breeder, his daughter, and one of the old ringmen.
A line snaked out the door for 50 feet,
The first contestant got up and the breeder said “begin.”
First in line was a promising candidate,
The loudest ringman of the bunch.
He thought his years of listening experience might pay off,
But his words lacked luster; all mumble, no punch.
The breeder held up his hand to stop the audition,
He shook his head no and hoped they’d make it through this bog.
His daughter offered kind words, but a no as well.
And the old ringman simply said “It’s a no for me, dawg.”
Next in line was the breeder’s childhood best friend,
He’d been helping with this sale for over 30 years.
He smoked a mean brisket on sale day,
Was a fast talker, and faced a crowd with no fear.
He unleashed a chant so disheveled;
A chant so incoherent and shrill.
All three judges voted “absolutely not.”
The friend just shrugged it off and went back to the grill.
The line dwindled down over the next half hour,
Each contestant was met with three nos.
The breeder was ready to throw in the towel,
Right as the knight in a small silver belly hat arose.
The denim knight was about 7 years old,
He had on a square-knotted scarf with a pearl snap underneath.
He said his name was Jack O’Riley and he loved cattle.
When he smiled, he was missing a few of his teeth.
The judges panel had no faith in the kid,
But they thought letting him rattle would at least make the crowd happy.
So, they gave young Jack the go ahead,
And he let out a chant that was nothing short of snappy.
Jackie Boy was ranting and raving,
I think he went three full minutes without stopping to breathe.
His energy was comparable to a rockstar’s,
and he was auctioning off fake lots, left and right, with ease.
The breeder sat there, completely astonished.
His daughter said a prayer of thanks and joy.
The ringman didn’t even bat an eye, however,
He smirked and under his breath muttered, “that’s my boy.”
The crowd roared, the kid blushed.
The breeder asked “Where’d you learn to do that?”
Jack pointed to the old ringman at the judges table and answered,
“I spend almost every weekend with my grandad.”
The breeder found himself an auctioneer;
Young Jack earned himself a good day’s wages.
He sold every single lot that day,
And the sale grossed higher than it had in ages.
When Jack called out his final “SOLD!”
the crowd gave him a standing ovation.
And that’s the story of how Jackie Boy O’Riley
Became an over-night auctioneering sensation.