Farewell to your worn synchromesh causing third gear to crunch,
No more stop-start traffic, drinking fuel too much,
No more motorway miles to munch.
Don't worry about your constant velocity joint gaitor
No longer preventing the ingress of dirt,
You were tough, large, and powerful on paper
But in the end a Y reg Transit took you out and really hurt.
No more MOTs to pass,
No more oil or filters to change
No more long drives with a numb arse,
No more petrol mileage or range.
In at least three shades of Nightfire red,
And various spots of rust
With a single camshaft, overhead
And a light coating of dust.
So goodbye old Rover, now you are dead
And in a pieces shall you rust.
Rover "Shitmobile" 620SLi: 1995-2016
