I’m Arthur the scrap-man out pounding the streets
Me and auld Paddy come rain hail ,Snaw and sleet.
Am’ efter yer, block –tin, copper and brass
Best prices paid always in cash
A don’t blow a bugle or rattle the plates
bring oot yir lead an windae-weights
Auld washing machines taps, and zinc I’ll buy anything
Even the kitchen sink.
The soo-side is best in my quest for scrap
Plenty of auld hooses nae longer intact
Some people say are ye no feart o’ rats
Even wans as big as a cat
The wiy ah’ look at it is they don’t scare me
A big stick wi’ a nail in it and they‘ll soon flee.
Ah must mention ma hoarse Paddys his name
A favourite wi wummin and aw the weans,
They bring him doon apples and sugar lumps
Sometimes a blanket tae cover his rump,Ah
Bought him aff travellers doon by the Clyde
It’s noo twelve years scouring the soo-side
Wi ’ma cairt stowed tae the gunnels with iron and tin
Let’s head for home auld pal of mine.
Just like myself auld Paddys grown old
Oot in aw weathers has taken its toll
A green field, sunshine, an plenty of hay
Is whit he deserves for his hard working days.