The Dolly on the Dustcart
This was one of my very own moments in my life that I adored Pam Ayres, poems especially this one… however, back in those days it was very different.
I read this over and over and over… not sure why… perhaps I felt like that dolly on that dustcart.. what no one really wanted … that was what I loved though.. simply something to read…. anyway, thought I would share with you an old favourite… of mine…
I so thought I was her stuck on a Dustcart, Enjoy this it made me smile as a little girl and I just though if anyone else remembers Pam Ayres awesome poems..
I'm the dolly on the dustcart, I can see you're not impressed, I'm fixed above the driver's cab, With wire across me chest, The dustman see, he noticed me, Going in the grinder, And he fixed me on the lorry, I dunno if that was kinder. This used to be a lovely dress, In pink and pretty shades, But its torn now, being on the cart, And black as the ace of spades, There's dirt all round me face, And all across me rosy cheeks, Well, I've had me head thrown back, But we ain't had no rain for weeks. I used to be a 'Mama' doll, Tipped forward, I'd say, 'Mum' But the rain got in me squeaker, And now I been struck dumb, I had two lovely blue eyes, But out in the wind and weather, One's sunk back in me head like, And one's gone altogether. I'm not a soft, flesh coloured dolly, Modern children like so much, I'm one of those hard old dollies, What are very cold to touch, Modern dolly's underwear, Leaves me a bit nonplussed, I haven't got a bra, But then I haven't got a bust! But I was happy in that doll's house, I was happy as a Queen, I never knew that Tiny Tears, Was coming on the scene, I heard of dolls with hair that grew, And I was quite enthralled, Until I realised my head Was hard and pink... and bald. So I travel with the rubbish, Out of fashion, out of style, Out of me environment, For mile after mile, No longer prized... dustbinised! Unfeminine, Untidy, I'm the dolly on the dustcart, And there's no collection Friday.