There Are Things You Do Not Sell

There are things you don’t sell Or else ‘You and The Cell’ Or you for the same sale, For The Same shall you sell, Aside waving The Cell I know An Evil Bell That tolled The Faintest Knell But An Ancestral Yell: As old as Satan’s Hell… And things you dare to sell And, soon, you’re The Unwell, Yesterday, The Quite Well, Today under a spell: A metallic god’s pail Neared not by A Female And touched not by A Male And some Mark said to fail By choosing to it sell And, just like that, turned pale And fast began to ail And the next day fell! Some things vow to not sell: I’m including Mum’s Gel You would waste and won’t tell; It mustn’t be Heirloom With all its Hidden Gloom And hateful Waiting Doom For The Old and In-Bloom.