They’re almost gone now a vanishing tribe Peddlers of fresh sweets honeys from hive Sellers of fish heads such sundries on head Toys and bangles and blankets for bed.
Don’t see them around those struggling men Making the choice of voice trudging the lane Hoping to sell one piece in dream of gain Faceless wind ringer in sun’s bite and rain.
Gone are those plaintive cries on summer noon Raising road’s dust on trail singing the tune Traders of trinkets girls’ ribbon hairpin Yoyo and plastic top with endless spin.
Why the times ruined them made them a flop Sellers travelers with head-full of shop Sending their song of hope past locked in door None could now fill that space nothing anymore.