on the Cars of Wokingham Road

Each house has a drive
And each house has a driver.
Above all they've got cars
And that's not all either.

The cars are as varied
As stones on a beach
And most of the houses
Have six of them each:

Here's an old Ford
And there's an old Vauxhall -
Not surprising as such
But every last plot's full.

There's a steamroller under
A tarpaulin sheet,
There's a rusty Montego
Which is nearly complete:

Count Jaguars sufficient
To start a game park,
And Metros and Minis
That 'just need new sparks.'

There's a Nissan that's missing
Its carb and its choke,
A corroding transmission
And a bloke with a Moke.

And along with the bad,
And along with the good,
There's a man who collects
Only red Alfasuds.

So why are there so many
Clapped-out old cars
In gardens, garages,
In drives and on paths?

Do the good people
Of Wokingham Road
Suspect their new cars
Might eventually explode

And that cars which are rusting
And covered in moss
Might somehow be summoned
To counter the loss?