We have scrubbed, and scoured and polished, till she's looking just like new, <br />And her good old engines singing, and our hearts are singing too, <br />While the magpies pipe a chorus, and the air's like a sparkling fizz. <br />And we're going to the races in the Old Tin Liz. <br /> <br />T'was the first car in the district, how we swelled our chests with pride, <br />As we asked our poorer neighbours to step up and take a ride, <br />Now they pass us by, disdainful, in the newest make there is, <br />Wondering why we cling so faithfully to Old Tin Liz. <br /> <br />When we'd got her, new and shining, Oh the picnics that we had, <br />Mother shredding all her troubles, Father larking like a lad, <br />While we youngsters sang in chorus, as our bubbling spirits riz, <br />Sitting decked with ferns and wattles in the Old Tin Liz. <br /> <br />But when Janey got a snake bite, ah! the terror of that day, <br />Nothing in the house to cure her, and the doctor miles away, <br />'Twas then Lizzie showed her mettle. Oh she had a heart of gold <br />Roaring up those flinty ridges liked a blessed two-year-old. <br /> <br />And the doctor cured our Janey, but the good old car helped too. <br />She has shared our joys and sorrows, and she's always pulled us through <br />Carting water in the drought time, pulling cattle from the bogs <br />Snorting gaily through the paddocks, over stones and stumps and logs. <br /> <br />The the precious hours on sunday-coming home from early Mass, <br />While the air's all hushed and holy, and the dew's still on the grass, <br />Sitting reverent and silent, what a blessed time it is: <br />We are near to Heaven then, in the Old Tin Liz.<br /><br />Alice Guerin Crist<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-tin-liz/
