Camberwell musings

The Ballad of Dog man
In Camberwell there lived a man

With fourteen dogs in his backyard

His shorts held up with baler twine

He liked to keep his bare legs warm

By rubbing them with lard
Each day he rummaged through the bins

His garden full of litter

Drank tea from empty dog food tins

And snacked on slabs of butter
His Georgian house had no mod cons

No heat, no light, no water on

Windows boarded up with tape

The front steps piled with clutter
Matted hair, greasy beard

Weather beaten cheeks

Eyes that looked right through you

When he passed you in the street
The story was he used to be

A teacher of photography

Extremely learned in his day

Then gradually he lost his way
One day he simply disappeared

Gone to the Maudsley so we heard

Sectioned and taken up the road

And his ramshackle house was eventually sold
In Camberwell there lived a man

With fourteen dogs in his back yard

His shorts held up with baler twine

He liked to keep his bare legs warm

By rubbing them with lard