Dustcart Sally

The cold Sun this Summer morn,
Collar-up she rise at dawn.
Her sweeping brush swish and swift
The studied streets and cellophane drift.
Tramp Gary, 'hoi!' and Sally, 'Hey'.
And thus begin the working day.

Sainsbury Sue with crafty fag,
Drop her can in Sally's bag.
They two talk men and shoes and dogs,
Then off again trip Sally's clogs.
Slim pickings here, 'cos 'tis midweek,
But four days hence be filthy creek.

The buses roar, while windows crack
Always hungry Sally's sack.
Whistled tunes keep health and heart;
And song means friends'll never part.
Then by noon she's done her day,
So home to actual work, hey hey.