A rover you were, all your working life,
But your conscience caught up with you,
You chose honourable re-tyre-ment and
You're now green through and through.
Once you greedily thirsted for petrol,
But finally kicked the habit,
And you now partake of fresh country air,
Just as rural as any wild rabbit.
In the past your throaty engine's roar
Out-decibeled the traffic's bustle,
But you now much prefer to listen to
The dry, restless leaves which rustle.
Alas your coachwork no longer gleams,
But you still retain all of your pride,
It's just your wish to be at one with nature,
As everything else you've tried.
A frosty morning is no deterrent,
To a well-seasoned convert like you,
It's just an unavoidable prelude,
To the sparkling spring-time dew.
Your days of road rage long since gone,
When you used to speed and scramble,
You're now content to pull to one side,
And be overtaken ... by a bramble.
