Tipping point

 Down in the dumps

Where everything jumps

The rabbit thumps

And the old dog slumps

Down in the dumps 

Where the sea gull stumps

His old broken leg

Over the lumps

Well things are looking up

Down in the dumps

Full of rubbish, and garbage and waste

Full of tubes of tooth paste

And the bitter taste

More pace less haste

Leads you down the road

to the dumps

The tip, the refuse heap

Where they give you a clip

Tell you to pin yourself 

To the dart board

Where the bicycle pumps

Don't work

Full of knots, and cots, and hotspots

Full of nettles and kettles and forget-me-nots

Where the flowers grow over

Other people's junk

Some ships have sunk

An iron hunk

These are the things you find

Down in the dumps

But there is blue sky crying

Its colour into the grey

Leaching its powers into

better days

And has-been machines

That should have been on their way

But stay

Like a museum

To remark upon decay

Yet the sun always shines upon them

The birds will still sing

This spring, that winter

Days have past and been seen

Some things were built to last

Some are known as sure things

Some in racks some in ruins

Some wrecks are the balls of a giant

Many are marked by the strong

Sinewy muscles ligaments and tendons

Of diggers turned to rust

But stand unyielding to the last

Waiting the dying rays of the sun

They endure