Am the fust Cycling Dustman!
The happy foreman Dustman!
The Cycle-riding Dustman!
Yes, by a co-in-side-ance queer,
I'm the fust Cycling Dustman!
Old fogies to the papers write,
Grumbling about their dust, Sirs.
They says we're scarce and imperlite,
Unless we're well tipped fust, Sirs.
When I wheels round on my machine,