trained goats as cleansing operatives

It's three hours past midnight,
In the towns and countryside,
With alliteration and small lights,
a goat group glibly glides

It's been a long weekend you see,
in this favoured tourist spot,
the visitors, they were too free,
bits of food, they did drop

So now the local council man,
cranks back black iron gates,
and unleashes forth a herd that can,
devour all in their wake

But what of cans and wrappers there?
and emptied noodle pots,
a goat who'll eat such must be rare,
and for this business we need lots

If we think, we'll find a way,
Said the council man on his break,
With his drawing board that day,
designed a goat pulled rake

Little wheels on either side,
and tines that pointed down,
For litter there's no where to hide,
But in the gutters of the town

But that's another story, involving a trained army of rats.