Around the town he’d wheel his pair of bins,

That once I heard referred to as his twins.

He picked up litter around the ruined fort,

And swept the pathways of the coastal walk.

Unnoticed by most, he cleaned the streets and pier

Of fag butts, packets and empty cans of beer.


In all kinds of weather he tended the council lawns,

And chased away dogs and pesky leprechauns.

So when last month he passed away in his sleep,

I wondered at his funeral who would weep

Beside his grave – but all the town was there:

Including the Sheriff and his Lordship, the Mayor!


About Alex Barton
This entry was posted in Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. ManicDdaily says:

    There is something wonderfully poignant about this – picking up everyone’s leavings, but being noticed quietly. Yes, there’s a sentimentality, but you counteract it with the particularity of your descriptions. Very nice. k.

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