The Old Suburban Poem by George Hunter

As I was scooping up the yard
The dogs all started barking hard.
It was Scott at the gate
And I told him to wait
Til I’d scooped up the last calling-card.

So I went out to the side walk
And it was Eric wanting to talk
About buying the car
If we could come to par
And I wasn’t the one to squawk.

He needed an engine for his truck
Whose motor was ruined by some schmuck
Who’d idled it an ran
It without turning on the fan
The guy was a dumb woodchuck

So we agreed on a price
Which we both thought was nice
Offered an Grand and a box of candy
Which I thought was quite dandy
And he hauled it off in a trice.

Finally found the pink slip
After a slight hardship.
Had filed it away
For this very day
When I’d need that piece of script.

The Sub’s been a faithful old car
It has taken us wide and far
To dog shows and places
It went through it’s paces
It was a muscle car.

But it will save me money
To spend on a day more sunny
No more insurance and smog
For that old gas hog
The expenses were not too funny.

Of course I hated to see it go
I was in love with it you know
But, as they say
All things pass away
It was time for its last picture show.