T'was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought it scarcely worth His while.
"What am I bidden good folks," He cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?".
"A dollar - a dollar," then,
two! Only two? "Two dollars, and who'll make it three"?
"Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
"Going for three...." But no,
From the room, in the very far back, a grey-haired man
came forward and picked up the bow.
Wiping the dust from the old violin,
He then tightened the loose strings,
Then played a melody as pure and as sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
with a voice that was quiet and low,
Said..."What am I bid for the old violin?"
and He held it up with the bow.
"A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?"
"Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice...
and going...going...GONE" He cried.
The people cheered, but some of them cried..
"We do not quite understand what changed its worth"
Swift came the rely...
T'was The Touch of a Master's Hand
~shedevel~
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