County Metal

Rolling through the dawn, machines ignite,

Metal mountains, shining bright.

In the heart of the county, we make our way,

Scrap in the back, ready to pay.

Trucks are rolling, every day,

Turning the old into new, in the roughest way.

Hear the engines roar, the clangs and the grind,

Grease-stained hands and a focused mind.

Scrap metal calling, it's our trade,

Building from the ruins, plans are made.

We buy your scrap, send trucks out daily,

Cash in hand, never fail, never fail.

County's metal, the backbone, the may,

Turning old to gold, in every way.

From rusty chains to shiny steel,

Every piece has a story to reveal.

Work and sweat, with a relentless zeal,

In this county, we make the deal.

So when you’ve got that scrap to spare,

Call us up, we’re always there.

Making pay, it's our game,

County metal, remember the name.