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MY OLD BANGER.

Once I bought a motor car,
It didn't take me very far.
Her colour was a bottle green,
With here and there a rusty sheen.
Some said I'd dropped a hefty clanger,
That I had bought a real old banger.
I couldn't believe that this was true,
To me she was beautiful just like new.
Petrol was her favourite drink,
The oil she burned made a stink.
She also had one spare wheel,
On cornering her tyres did squeal.
The man that sold her said to me,
She'd go for years, just wait and see.
Her hooter makes a lovely sound.
The steering wheel goes round and round.
She's very well sprung for her age,
Lumps and bumps don't make her rage.
When you say she's got a rattle,
I just wont believe your tittle tattle.
Who say's your brakes don't work,
It's the kanguruh petrol that makes you jerk.
You've got everything to make you go,
Some are jealous and say your slow.
You are not a Rolls or Bentley fair,
To tell the truth, I just don't care.
For my car you are, My car you'll stay,
Till the breakers come to tow you away.

Bernard Shaw.