This Is a Rubbish Poem

This is a rubbish poem! Since I was old enough to know better, I was taught not to throw litter. To scatter rubbish when out and about, From our local bobby invited a clout. Out back each house had a dust bin, So called because all it had was dust in. All waste the fire did consume, And this would help to warm the room. When the fire went out as it must, Into the pan beneath fell the dust. Newspapers used for a fire to light, Any tin cans gave us kids delight. Two cans and string made our mobile phone, One talked, one listened with a can at your ear, So even empty cans did we hold dear. Some string through two cans and put on your feet, You could clip clop around, the sounds were neat. Milk bottles were glass, put out for the milkman, He would exchange for full before the day began. Bread wrappers were waxed and recycled by kids, When rubbed on the park slide, helped us to skid. Jam jars and bottles, collected by the score, Returned to shop and pub to make a few pennies more. Even coal dust was used for when the coal was spent. It was damped and tamped into bricks left to dry, When the coal ran out, kept us all warm by and by. Nothing escaped the discerning folk in those days, We had brown paper shopping bags that had their use Even the handles were made of paper for a grip, If they got wet or did rip the fire was their next trip. Nothing was wasted back when I was a kid. When you could play drums on a dustbin lid. Turn it upside down for a big bass drum, Too much noise , you got a clout from Mum. The dustbin served as the wicket for cricket. An old chair leg for a bat, just the ticket. I have rambled on I could for much, much more, Just to say that rubbish hardly went out the door. © Dave Timperley 27/09/2018