“Rag and bone!” he yelled. You could hear him coming from streets away.
We watched him pass, a bunch of scruffy kids with huge eyes.
His horse plodded down the cobbled street, careful not to slip on the damp stones. He pulled a flatbed dray, piled high with assorted brick-a-brack.
We weren’t sure what the Rag’n’bone-man did with his hoard of used clothes and mouldy old bones, but we were confident he had a cunning plan up his sleeve. He probably was making a fortune.
We loved to see his horse clip-clopping along, and wondered why he gave out goldfish?