The Dying Chauffeur

A poem by Rudyard Kipling

Wheel me gently to the garage, since my car and I must part,
No more for me the record and the run.
That cursed left-hand cylinder the doctors call my heart
Is pinking past redemption, I am done!

They'll never strike a mixture that'll help me pull my load.
My gears are stripped, I cannot set my brakes.
I am entered for the finals down the timeless untimed Road
To the Maker of the makers of all makes!

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