Now Here's A Little Story...
I am a dirty dustman, tautology defined.
You know I've been when you have seen what I have left behind.
My cart I keep for trinkets, for I'm the cuss's tinker:
I leave alone the lawn you've mown, the clippings
and the clinker.
In waste I am your wastrel, for I have my time to fill:
Your secret hoard I spread abroad when I've your dirt to spill.
You cross my palm with silver, I cross your path with care;
Your broken furniture concerns me, if it's rich or rare -
For then the saleroom bulges with excellent antique,
And only then we'll meet again on every second week.
Refuse to take your refuse? More than my job is worth
That you suspect I should collect what barely cost the earth.
I am a dirty dustman, as wicked as I'm rich.
What out you throw I'll have you know I flog again as kitsch.