There you are randomly pecking away.
It’s my Magpie Child, sorting her prey.
Bottle top, wrapper, something out of place,
Nothing’s unimportant, junk’s to your taste.
Spotting the out of ordinary.
Tasting it, eugh, is that necessary?
Try and really think about what you do,
Are you eating all sorts of animal pooh?
Watching you look at the bits that you find,
It’s see-through joy, it’s a shame we’ve become blind.
All your finds you clearly treat like pure gold.
If I were your toys, I think I would be sold.
Seeing all this pleasure your gold can give,
I’ll save some things from the bin, let them live.
You do bring life to everything you touch,
It’s one of the reasons we love you so much.