WHO remembers the rag man? Kenny Surtees has sent us this poem about the commong site of the man and his horse:
ON his way the rag man goes,
He’s totting once again.
Down Murray Street and Brenda Road,
Each day at half-past-ten.
In overcoat and hobnailed boots,
And flat cap on his head.
The rag man and his shire horse,
Have many roads to tread.
He bellows in the wind and rain,
“Rag-bone, rag-bone, rag-bone”
Down cobbled-streets and alley-ways,
There’s no ground he won’t comb.
He finds a rusty bicycle,
A table, chair and lamp.
Then he finds a rocking chair,
That’s frayed and very damp.
He pours himself a cup of tea,
From some old fusty flask.
“Hey Mister, does your horse bite?” All the little children ask.
He hears a woman shout aloud,
Who looks a little sloven.
Calling from her back yard,
“Will you take my old gas oven?”
The rag-and-bone man is content,
He’s had a pleasing day.
He holds the reins and clamours,
“Giddy-up there, on your way”
It’s getting cold as snowflakes fall,
And soon it will be dark.
But come tomorrow he’ll be back,
On streets where stray dogs bark.