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An Illustrated Ode To Car Parks

by Margaret Gillings, 1999

We seek the very best hotels
The ones that boast five stars
But let's admit of most import
Is the place we park our cars

They must be paved in blackest pitch
Away from the common flock
With room to miss the garden beds
When turning on full lock

No trees which shower leaves or gum
To mar our paintwork's sheen
And no complaints about the oil
That shows where our Ghost's been

But more than this our special need
Is an outdoor meeting spot
Where we can chat and argue
Should we double-declutch or not?

Now look at Lach and Kerry
In the carpark Canberra boasts
Getting funds for the Flying Doctor
From folks who viewed the Ghosts
And Chairman Mal at Peppers
Wearing gloves so pristine white
As he adjusts his whittle belt
(It has to be just right!)
In far away Northampton
John Milvo spends the day
Preparing for the Concours
(A Blue will come his way)
At the Braidwood town museum
While we all go inside
Simon, Rob and Byron find
The spark plug gap's too wide
Were Jim and Keith not speaking?
Can these friends have fallen out?
No! Each was focused on the job
That's what Ghosting's all about
Our English friends in Broken Hill
Were getting high then higher
How many Rolls-Royce owners
Does it take to change a tyre?
At end of day in Dubbo
Three friends from different lands
Relect on life's sweet mysteries
With beer cans in their hands.
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