I didn't want to say
It seems we are outmoded
Much too slow, and in the way
You know how much I love you
I'd repair you in a flash
But I haven't got the knowledge
And I haven't got the cash
There's rust all round your headlamps
I could push through if I tried
My pot of paint can't cure it
Cause it's from the other side
All along your sides and middle
You are turning rusty brown
Though you took me ninety thousand miles
And never let me down
Not the snapping of a fan belt
Not the blowing of a tyre
Not the rattling of a tappet
And nor did you misfire
All your wheels stayed on the corners
And the wipers on the screen
Though I didn't do much for you
And I never kept you clean
All your seats are unupholstered
And foam rubber flecks the floor
You were hit by something else once
And I cannot shut the door
But it's not those things that grieve me
Or the money that I spent
For you were my first driver
Ninety thousand miles we went
I could buy a bright and new car
And go tearing round the town
A BGT! A Morgan!
(with the hood all battened down)
But as I leave you in the scrapyard
Bangers piled up to the skies
Why do your rusty headlamps
Look like sad, reproachful eyes?
The legendary Pam Ayres
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