Scrap iron! <br />Cries the rag man with his bugle in his hand, <br />And with his unkempt horse slowly trudging on behind, <br />Adorned with red and green balloons tied tightly to its reins, <br />To give to all the children when some metal they do find. <br /> <br />Scrap iron! <br />Cries the rag man as he peers from left to right, <br />For the slightest movement and the glimpse of opening door, <br />But alas the street is quiet and nobody is about, <br />And so he blows his bugle now much harder than before. <br /> <br />Scrap iron? <br />Asks the rag man to a gent who trims his hedge, <br />But in resignation he does sadly shake his head, <br />And as the horse and rag man now continue on their way, <br />Decide to try their luck within another road instead. <br /> <br />Scrap iron! <br />Cries the rag man as the rain begins to fall, <br />So he dons a dirty cap to shield his greasy hair, <br />Slips on a tattered overcoat he keeps inside his cart, <br />And ties some string around it thinking life is so unfair.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scrap-iron/
