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Now there was this mechanic
Who seemed to be a manic
With some odd, ambiguous auto part
The way he's acting, you'll think it was an art
Loves to hear the motors drone
With a fleet of vehicles back home
Yet he doesn't have one to drive
'Cause none of his cruisin' cars are alive
Walking around, clothes all gross and oily
Guess he thinks that most cars are holy.
All that fuss just to screw in some bolt
Better hope your piece of metal doesn't revolt
But that's okay, he'll fix it too
Drops the change into his coveralls, that'll do
Only a few minutes of actual labour
How well it works? Better say a prayer
Goes around in some a old-clunker
Though the town, almost requiring petal-power
Forget the lovely ocean, mountains and trees
He'll rather speed around that track, please
Spends more time in the garage then home
No clean clothes in sight, as a car gleams its chrome
Loves the roar of imitated horsepower
Gladly he'll tell you all those miles he went in an hour.
But back to his occupation
Loving the world of mechanization
With nothing trusty anymore in this game
How so often it seems, when the car goes lame
Flipping through the pages of an how-to manual
Maybe he'll fix that oddity on its centennial
Sure, as if, dressed in greasy dirt
But that's okay, because only with cars he'll flirt
Of the mechanic, I think I have said enough
As from the exhaust, clouds of smog it'll puff
For Literature 12, in the style of a modern verse version of the Canterbury Tales. I know the rhymes are pretty forced and the whole thing may not fully make sense but it's kind of funny!

Inspired by my dad and general thoughts/stereotypes on mechanics.
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Submitted on
September 2, 2012
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