Murphy's Law and the Motor-car

Another poem by B.L.Cann


An unpleasant knock from the front of the car,
Insists that the drive shafts have gone just too far,
The steering has got a strong pull to the right,
To try and keep straight requires all of your might!
Assistance is summoned, and Friday's the day,
When a mobile mechanic eats up all my pay,
With replacement drive-shaft to fit does he call,
But then finds that the b####r will not fit at all!


To find a replacement he goes off hot foot,
He's blacker than charcoal, or even soot,
But Murphy's decided he'll spoil any plan,
Of repairing the fault by this poor grubby man!
He returns with another  "This will do the trick",
Assembly goes well, and everything is slick,
Until it is offered up to the gearbox,
Accompanied by curses, and accused of  "The pox".


A rapid exchange of parts then does take place,
Murphy hasn't finished his fatal embrace,
The car's back together, a test drive is done,
If owt it's worse now than before it was done!
Off goes the mechanic, not a happy man,
An hour at most was his previous plan,
U.J.'s to locate for a proper repair,
My Ford is a right so and so, he'll declare!


The third time of trying to get the job right,
As daylight begins to descend toward night,
We leave him to play with the parts he has got,
Are we and he happy; of course we are not!
Now Murphy has got one last trick he can play,
To make a perfect end to a quite perfect day,
A broken spring found on a suspension strut,
Well thank you, young Murphy; aye, thank you a lot!