WILLY THE WEASEL - NOPE, I DIDN'T SEE THE SKII JUMPS THIS YEAR. LUKE - TO BAD, TO BAD WILL DITTO - NAW, TO COLD! Bursting forth with a true artist's touch, a sense of rhythm that cannot be over-looked; the Weber Bum, Poet Laureate of the common herd, pens the following exclusively for the Acorn Crumbs. THE GARBAGE MAN The garbage man, The garbagre man, Chief custodian of our garbage can, He rattles garbage pails in the dawn's early light, To the distress of those who stay out late at night. But if you're wise you'll extend a glad hand To the fellow who's known as your garbage man. The garbage man, The garbage man, Knows your family life by your garbage can. He knows what you have to eat each day, The scraps in the bucket tell him plain as day. As long as families have a garbage can, You can't hide the truth from the garbage man. The garbage man, The garbage man, Sees bits of life's drama in the garbage can. There's Sally Pell's slippers, side by side, Worn through from walking home from an auto ride, She didn't tell Mother - tossed them in the garbage can, Now her secret is shared by the garbage man. The garbage man, The garbage man, Sings at life through a garbage can. He doesn't dine so ritzy when his day is through, He's quite content with an Irish stew, But doff your hat - we'd be in a jam, If the Lord had not created the garbage man.