The Bush Mechanic

He was an old fella in overalls With a greasy rags hanging out of his pockets all And his finger nails were bordered in black From the years fixin’ engines on his back He worked hard every day Burnin’ daylight was not his way And I rolled into town behind a truck My car givin’ in being out of luck He took one look at the car And wiped his hands with a rag so far With a look of thinkin’ hard and long “Well give me a couple a hours and I’ll have her purring a song” So we left him to the work to be done And went to the town cafe for a meal all along A few hours later he turned up to the cafe Again wiping his hands for the grease Saying, “Mate, Gudday” “Well I’m not too up on these modern engines But I fixed it up this time havin’ won again” So we paid up for the service made With a smile and another legend making the grade. © Paul Warren Poetry