The Collector

I once collected bottle caps
when I was ten years old.
Then matchbook covers were my thing,
a choice I thought was bold.

I never went for coins or stamps;
that was a rich man’s game.
Back then I thought that baseball cards
were really kind of lame.

But now that I am more mature
and have time to reflect,
I’ve given lots of thoughts about
the best things to collect.

Some people cherish old antiques,
those ones that cost a lot.
But then I’d have to live with them
and I would rather not.

Then others look for forty-fives,
those records from the past.
But they won’t even play the songs
for fear they will not last.

They keep them stored in special books,
all of them tucked away,
where they can never gather dust
or see the light of day.

But none of those things pull me in.
I guess they’re not my style.
At last I’ve come up with my choice;
it’s taken quite a while.

Now you may think I’ve chosen cars
or something cool like that.
But you would be so wrong, my friend.
That’s not where my head’s at.

No, I’m collecting bobbleheads.
Yeah, that surprised me too.
But I am very proud to say
I now have ninety-two.

My wife is not so sure of this.
She thinks I’ve lost my mind.
‘Cause I spend all my waking time
to see what I might find.

She told me that she thinks I’m weird.
Yeah, that’s what she has said.
She told me time and time again
that I’m the bobblehead.

Well, she just doesn’t know a bit
about collecting things.
She’ll be surprised the day she learns
the fortune that it brings.

I’m storing up on bobbleheads.
I just bought twenty more.
I’ll soon have a monopoly
on bobbleheads, for sure.

Some day these will be valuable;
I know they’re gonna be.
Oh, some day soon the day will come
when she won’t laugh at me.

Oh, never mind, she’s left me now.
She said she’s had enough.
She moved on out, now I’m alone,
just me and all my stuff.

If you’re collecting bobbleheads,
you know you must be strong.
‘cause you’ll be living by yourself
before too very long.