The Mechanic’s Dream, by George Walter Supple

This poem was written by my grandfather, George Walter Supple, who died about six years ago. Dad found it, and in a bid to preserve it, I reproduced it here.
Boy laughing joyously with a book

This poem was written by my grandfather, George Walter Supple, in what we believe was the 1940s (judging by the paper, and the pencil it was written in). It is reproduced here, exactly, including any errata written in the original. Enjoy ~ Leticia

The Mechanic’s Dream

A young mechanic courted for just about a year

A charming little damsel with idea’s so very queer,

She was a modern girl, devoid of sentiment

She thought of jazzing but seemed to be content

To talk for hours about different makes of cars

The topic of their hearts.

Cars were on their brains even at meals

They never spoke of anything but what it was on wheels

The couple then got married on their wedding night

The conversation was really worth a book to write,

And when he saw her standing quite undressed,

He felt a sudden swelling underneath his vest.

She cuddled closer and on his corns she trod

And said isn’t it a beauty your stiff connecting rod,

He answered, yes my darling I can put the point

Of my connecting rod in your universal joint,

Certainly my dear, but tell me do

Those nuts underneath your rod require another screw,

Without those nuts my dear, my rod could be no use

They work the carburettor and through them comes the juice.

And then he lay upon her with her throttle open wide

But he couldn’t get a start not matter how he tried,

He asked her was her intake free and working well

She said, you’d better have a look, I’m sure I cannot tell,

He gave her then an overhaul and trouble he did spy

He found the radiator was getting dry

Out of bed he jumped and found a pot of grease

Said he a drop of this should give a lot of ease,

Soon he got his rod up and dropped it into gear.

He let his clutch in with a jerk and poked it in her rear,

She skidded around beneath him and asked for extra air

You choked my exhaust by putting it in there,

I’d rather steer myself dear, he answered with a grin

As she picked up his piston and put it in her ring,

Accelerating quickly when he found the spot

Inside seventy seconds he was flat out in top.

Her timing was perfect she never missed a stroke

Her graceful body quivered to his pistons pull & poke,

The juice was running reckless her bearing running hot

She didn’t worry if he eased up or not

And just as she was bolting her chassis working loose

His carburetta flooded and filled her up with juice.

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