Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
My Engine
My Engine When I was younger I'd go for a spin. So great was my hunger, I'd drive to Berlin. As I got older, Hand on my heart, The engine was colder, I'd need a bump start. The motor got mucky, First starts, then it stops. Sometimes I'd be lucky To get to the shops. Now, seized and rusty, Where once it all shone, My tried and my trusty Has got up and gone.
Hobbo's Poems 
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😂 I wonder why?
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Awwww. Sad. Needs a little TLC. You should call that show… can’t think of their name but I think it’s got SOS in the title. We used to enjoy watching them resuscitate old cars. Britain’s full of motoring treasures, it seems. In Australia you see “motoring treasures” out to rust in cow paddocks like reddening dinosaur bones amongst pats and paspalum.
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Thank you for the education, had to use Giggle again this morning…
Paspalum,
By gum!
A type of grass,
You ass!
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Ha ha ha. Yes indeed
A grass with sticky seeds.
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🙂
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Ah, the joys of aging…
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As Jim Royle would say, “Golden years my arse, Barbara!”
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🤣 legend!
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😂
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Still gets you where you want to go, though at a slower pace
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😂And with stops for tea and biccies en route!
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Sure started-out pretty slick. Always admired a dewd who could keep his traveling wheels that clean. Takes dedication. Good write, Hobb.
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Thanks. I’ll get the WD40 out later.
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Sounds like you need an MOT…
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More like scrapyard!
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😦 Any chance of a tune up?
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Time for the scrapyard I think.
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No! Look at all the clever places it’s still traveling to.
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Hehehe! Thanks!
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