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.

:)