The Mean Ol' Tire Hacker Poem by Tony Avila Sampson

You are the one that I'll pay back,
Be forewarned, I'll soon attack!
Be your car tires that I come to hack,
I'll make air flow with every whack;
May even give one just a snick,
I can cause you trouble with my sharp ice-pick,
Or, the tire, my knife may bump,
To make your car, 'slowly' to slump,
But at each tire that I do snap,
Will be its air, you'll notice I zap;
For every tire that I will bang,
I'll get to hear it hiss or whang,
Yes, each tire that I will slash,
Will be done swiftly and in a flash,
Cause your tires are so tinkable,
Be with ease, you'll learn their shrinkable,
I'll give you a taste of alittle tough luck,
As there you sit with four flats and stuck,
Oh, the tires will take a sharp slacken,
When, at your tires I'm busy hackin’,
While I'm doing so, I'll get a thrill,
Knowing, with air, your tires won't fill,
The tires will 'get the point' of their whacher,
When swung by me, the mean ol’ tire hacker;