Friends
Over the holiday, I received the 'poem' below from George, an old friend who
worked on the Coventry Assembly Track. George is now well into his eighties
and to be brutally frank, was never a dedicated enthusiast of the Herald.
The fact that he bolted together untold thousands of them may have something
to do with this?
George was anxious to point out the work is NOT original, he has added to it
himself and he has openly admitted it first appeared in print about a Mini.
Anyway, it made me chuckle - and I hope it brings a trace of a smile to you
as well.
HNY
Jonmac
Great Uncle Gerald
Left Great Nephew Tim
A Herald
- that once was so trusty.
Fine car, take a bow, you're far from that now
Just all over rusty and crusty.
'Tis truly no spoof
It's got a sunroof
And handling that's quirky but nifty,
With crossed flags on the wings
And other odd things
It's a genuine Herald 12/50.
With Gerald in death
And Tim's sharp intake of breath
The car was admired by a Quaker.
Said Tim, "You a taker?
Please don't be a faker,
I wish it was a low comp
Drum braker.
It needs a skid plate and things
Like tropical springs
And dampers with zero compression.
Bulbed 45/40's
Some Playboys with naughties
All scattered around in the boot.
It could be much neater
With a Scandinavia heater
And a Clear Hooter hooter
That hoots.
A cool 'stat and lam glass
Yes, Clear glass - not tinted
Such items would surely be nice
For dis-illusioned freaks
Who are sealing up leaks
That would flood paddy fields
Where one can grow rice
A handle on bonnet
To tie on a sonnet
And two Lucae with vertical dip.
I could enjoy some long snoozes
If I knew more about fuses
And things to give Sheila a fright -
like a duff, bent tin catch
that was never a match
for the weight in the 'frying tonight.'
Tim's big ends were knocking.
The clutch plate was slipping
The handbrake wasn't holding at all.
And what once was a car
They all agreed by far
Was really good only for 'crocking.'
Tim tinkered and fiddled
And then sort of diddled
And twiddled a couple of knobs.
He had a good feel
Round the back of each wheel
And tested the thingummybobs.
He read through some booklets
On car care and part wear
To find out what ought
To be done.
With brake pads and linings,
And strange sorts of whinings,
And an engine that rumbled
When run.
They all said the same.
"It's a car that's_gone_lame."
"You need rings that are true
For the exhaust smoke that's blue
That sump oil gets blacker and blacker.
Why not buy something new
With a stainless steel flue
Let's face it -
it's just an old knacker."
Tim asked dear wife Sheila,
To ring up a dealer
And put out a feeler
Or two.
Said a man, "if you feel
That the deal
Could be real,
Then of course we'll
Be talking 'go, go.'
But a car that is rusty
And crusty
- not trusty
That's surely a great big No, No."
So Tim in the end
Rang up a good friend
Who said that he knew of a chap
Who lived out near Brentwood -
I dare say this gent would
Take Gerald's old Herald
for scrap.
The Great Nephew of Gerald
Climbed into Gerald's Herald
And drove fifty miles to the sea,
Where he smoked a cigar
And said, 'Farewell car,
All too soon this could happen to me."
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