A poem- Dave, the Second Hand Car Salesman

Dave, the Second Hand Car Salesman

Dave, Dave, marvellous Dave,

So very good at the smile and the wave,

Always knows how to behave,

Always has the right thing to say.

From your silver tongue words so freely slip,

Witty one liners and clever quips,

Words of promise, words to reassure,

Words of warning not to buy from the bloke next door.

There’s no doubt you’re great at what you do;

Selling the stuff to me and you.

But I’ve heard that some  folk do say

That what you tell them doesn’t quite work out that way,

That though you’ve sold them the car of their dreams,

What they’ve bought doesn’t turn out to be quite what it seems,

That meters get fixed by George, your mechanic mate,

Who’s very skilled at cut and shut with welded plate.

Some say your cars break down in a month or three,

And yet you always wriggle out of your warranty.

But it’s hard to believe this of a man oh so charming,

Your enchanting words and ways are just so disarming.

Yet sometimes I think I catch a hint

A glint of something in your eye: 

A fiendish flicker or a ghost of a lie?

But surely it’s nothing more than a trick of the light?

Still perhaps it’s best that you and George your matey

Stuck to selling cars and not stuff more weighty.

Imagine if you’d gone to Eton and not the local  school

And then you’d ended up in charge of us all?