Ten quid Carhartts.
I always sail right
past them sale rails
with a scoff—
rather chase
third-hand loot
in daylight, twilight,
eBay, like I’ve
nothing to lose, or
do, snaring a bid—
hot wash’ll sort ‘em,
stalk, catch ‘em
with rips, bust zips,
or holes—
carpenter’s, no fray:
smug, snug, tough luck.
:)