The Rubbishman

I'm the Rubbish-Man,
Prince of Plastic, King of Tin Can.
People say I'm disgusting,
But the children are so trusting
When I rip {or do they throw?}
Such sweet wrappers out of their hands
To scatter them brightly across the lands.

I am the Reveller of Rags,
Emperor of Empty Shopping Bags.

Yes! I'm the Rubbish Man!
Catch me, Collar me, Collect me if you can.
It's me who stole into your sleep,
Took your mattress soft and deep.
Now, I'm coiled up, comfortably rusting by the Rubbish Stream
As She slips her way through the city's dark dream.

Oh! I'm the Rubbish Man!
Rubbing out wishes as only I can.
I made the blocks that burn the sky
And if you dare to ask me why,
I'll say it's my job, it's what I do.
Then will I dance The Rubbish Dance for you.

For, I'm the Rubbish Man!
Bin me, Bag me, Beat me if you can,
But together we'll dance all days away
And Darkness, my friend, shall come to stay.

First Published, The Moon Is On The Microphone,
Sherbourne Publications 1996