19. Car Breakers

There's a graveyard down our street,

But it's not for putting people in;

The bodies that they bury here

Are made of iron and steel and tin.

The people come and leave their wrecks

For crunching in the giant jaws

Of a great hungry car-machine,

That lives on bonnets, wheels and doors.

When I pass by the yard at night,

I sometimes think I hear the sound

Of ghostly horns that moan and whine,

Upon the metal-graveyard mound.

                                           Marion Lines