He comes knocking your door
Buys things you need no more
Weighs and pays for discarded load
Then goes off to another road.
For your pound he pays pence
Makes it seem in perfect sense
The deal is only if you're willing
To barter the old for new shilling.
You feel he adds some happiness
Clears the dirt creates the space
Your home was long a messy lot
With no place for new things brought.
Not all old things are like that dirt
A few are ever new are your part
He never asks them to be sold
Knowing you wouldn't for price of gold.