Clean Up Day. Poem by Mike Berriman

Discarded beds, chairs and beams
But clean up day is not what it seems
Throw out the old and replace with new
Recycle day more likely true.

Clean out the kitchen, empty the shed
Strip the garage and trash the bed
But wait, I see in this street's trash
Golf clubs and buggy, this means cash.

And look here, to my mate I call
Garden tools, but that's not all
Why here's a set of perfect oars
Load the car and call them yours.

We have this fun two times a year
A Dollar smile from ear to ear
The snobs sneer and think were' funny
But what we collect we sell for money

So one man's trash is another man's treasure
Trashing that which once bought pleasure
Rejects from life after all these years
Objects of mirth, of love and tears.

And on this pile a broken screen
And close by a small washing machine
Once it washed and made like new
Don't you know it had feelings too!

So next neighborhood clean up day
You be the first recycler to say
I can use that white thing and that wood
No point in trashing something good.

MB 2004