Christmas Morn

Sweeping through the dust
With a one-wheel open tray,
O’er the streets she goes
Coughing all the way.

The bells on anklets ring
Between her hollow strides
Oh what drag it is to pick
The garbage on the sides.

Stinky smells, stinky smells
Stinky all the way,
Oh what fun it is for us:
She takes them all away.

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