“Ah, hell!” The old man cursed and kicked
the tire, now gone plumb flat;
“gol’durn hoopie ain’t worth beans!”,
he turned n’ hacked, then spat.

Too many years a’ bustin’ butt,
with damned few dollars earned;
his second wife had took it all,
their marriage up n’ spurned.

The jack, he placed, the car was raised,
flat tube pulled off for patchin’’;
an old hand pump n’ fixin’ kit,
laid out for proper matchin’.

He picked a patch would fit the leak,
a scrape, a smudge of glue;
then laid the rubber o’er the hole,
that tube ’came good as new.

Beneath the car he wiggled then,
to check a broke brake line;
the jack was leanin’, fearsome like,
it should have been a sign.

His car just slipped, then toppled,
There ain’t much more to tell;
the car went to the bone yard,
the old man’s gone to hell.