Dan, Dan, the sani–man,
Here comes his dirty van.
Hold your breath
Whilst you can.
Phew! It smells bad.
Hope the driver’s
Not your dad.
Dan, Dan, the sani-man,
Hold your breath
If you can.
Dan, Dan carts his pan
On his shoulder
Whene’er he can.
With poop sloshing
Over the sides,
He runs quite fast,
Takes such big strides.
He turns away.
His face he hides.
Not one child I know
Would dare admit
That his Dad’s the man
Who collects the sh_ _
And carts it away
To the sanitary pit.
Dan, Dan, the sani–man,
Here comes his slopping van.
Hold your breath
Whilst you can.
Phew! It stinks.
Oh man! Oh man!
Ever so much worse
Than the garbage can.
It runs in his eyes
Even if he blinks.
I wonder what
The poor man thinks.
Don’t get too close.
Better hold your nose.
It could splash
On your toes
Or, even worse,
It could soil your clothes
And your Ma will curse.
Dan, Dan, the sani-man,
Hooray, he’s gone
With his reeking van!
