It was a hot sunny August day
When he arrived, parked the car
From the trunk retrieved his bucket
He didn’t have to walk very far
He was wearing coveralls and boots
Had canvas gloves, a hat on his head
Into the woods, he quickly entered
Out of heat into coolness instead
The trail he followed, it meandered
To his destination ahead, a ravine
Where bits of glass, and pottery were strewn
Everywhere they could be seen
Research helped him find this dump
It was the original for his town
Here he would spend the afternoon
Where local history could be found
Climbing in, he began to dig
Using a trowel, sometimes a knife
His goal was to find antique bottles
He had done it most of his life
Slowly he began to move the dirt
Listening for the clink of glass
It could be almost anything
From a medicine to an embossed flask
Countless horse and cow skeletons
He had found and dug through
Hundreds of women’s high-top shoes
How they survived? He had no clue
For every good bottle, he found
Dozens of broken ones he’d find
That was to be totally expected
It was something he didn’t mind
Slowly his bucket began to fill
An amber whiskey, an old ink well
An embossed local pharmacy flask
It was perfect, he could tell
A pontiled marble, cast iron truck
An early embossed amber Coke
He dug a perfect stoneware jug
From the midst of iron wheel spokes
Tired, he headed for the car
He thought about what he had found
Antiques to add to his collection
By just digging in the ground
His finds today, they were worth
Two hundred dollars or more
His cost, a bucket of sweat
And hands that were pretty sore
It was something he liked to do
He never knew what he would find
Every time he would go back
Hoping to find that one of a kind
A bottle digger’s life is dirty
They are usually in an old dump
Looking for relics from the past
Underneath those dirt clod clumps
From time to time a prize he’d find
He’d hold it up high and smile
That’s what he liked the most
It made his efforts so worthwhile