Radio burza

While sipping at my morning coffee cup,I hear the Burza, and it cheers me up.It is a programme people gladly heed;it offers all that any soul could need.So as to put their finances aright,they swap things, give things, sell things, left and right.There's everything your heart desires, you'll find,all sorts of goods, God bless you, every kind.Each person gets his wares for sale set out;believe me, there is nothing it's without.This show is just the thing for us, and how!There's pigs on offer, calves, and many a cow,there's corn and cabbages, and spuds they bring,some rakija, and things that play and sing.Cheap motor cars are offered on the air,and weekend cottages and fields are there,bricks, roofing tiles, and timber, beams and boards;whatever someone needs, the show affords.They offer chickens, too, without a speck,alive, or plucked right down from tail to neck.A great big pig, or else a piglet, too:each time, you'll find one there to buy for you.One woman sells a chest of drawers, and shethrows in a pyramid with it, for free.The young grow up, and hormones stir and wake;there's rosemary for weddings, yours to take.A cosy mink coat, genuine, so grandthere's none to match it far across the land.There's hay and straw, all baled and neatly tied,and firewood, sawn already, is supplied.A still for making rakija's on sale,and a kolinje toolkit, knife and pail,and first-class walnuts, not a single fault;so much, your mind would grind down to a halt.All this is offered to us on the air:that's proper trading, people, I declare!If I should count up all that's being sold,it would take long before it all was told.All details are correctly written down;they run the Burza deftly, best in town.