Sweep! Sweep! Sweep!
Comes the sweeper of the street,
In his hand an ekel broom,
On his bald head an old hat.

We litter the streets with,
Bits of paper, empty cans and naughty plastics,
Leaves and petals shed by trees,
Spits of betel and litter of puppies!!

He sweeps them morning to evening,
Today, tomorrow and day after,
In pouring rain and blazing sun,
With a plea he asks you,
"My good people, Do not litter!"