Car Breakers

There's a graveyard in our street,

But it's not for putting people in;

The bodies they bury here

Are made of steel and paint 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 here a sound

Of ghostly  horns that moan and whine ,

Upon that metal- graveyard mound.

                                          -Unknown-