J. Purdie was never the tallest of fellas, A sack on his back and a pair of umbrellas, Named after a song he would sing A capella, Of a soldier’s farewell “ta ta Bella”
Dancing with jam jar lids stuck to his feet Round the back court middens of the tenement streets To recycle the glass of a town which decried him a washing line thief amongst other cruel lies.
His true legacy’s more than a slagging for those who are looking untidy in hairstyle or clothes, He taught us the lesson; the things we dispose of must be re-loved or re-used, which now everyone knows.