When I worked on the grading gang;
But the boss was a crook, and he docked my pay—
Some day that boss will hang.
I used to live in a six by nine,
Try to save my dough—
It’s a bellyful of the chaff of life,
Feet that up and go.
The mesh of leafy branches rustled loud,
Into the road slid Bindlestiff. You’ve seen
The like of the traveller: gaunt humanity