His palace was made of tarpaulin,
And regal crown made of tin foil;
His reign filled with quaint lanes,
The plastic pipe he held – his sword cane;
Dilapidated, dingy narrow lanes – Yet,
Filled with abundant love, I bet!
Bottle caps, buttons, cardboard,
Were invaluable treasures he guarded;
His arrival announced royally in style,
By the chugging of a passer-by train
Well, the rhythmic patter of raindrops,
Were the only applause he sought;
Happily residing in his own paradise,
The ragpicker’s son was a king in his realm!