I was tidying up some bookshelves yesterday when I rediscovered my old dad's autograph book, given to him on his 12th birthday during the First World War. It contained many lovely hand drawn pictures and poems but this one,dating so far back, amused me:
"The Ford is my motor, I shall not want - another -
It maketh me lie down in wet places,
It soileth my soul; it leadeth me into
the paths of ridicule for its name's sake
Yea, though I run down the valleys, I am towed up the hills,
I fear much evil while it is with me.
Its rods and its engines discomfort me.
It annointeth my face with oil, its tanks runneth over.
Surely to goodness the d.....d thing won't follow me all the days of my life
Or I shall dwell in the house of the insane for ever.
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oldherbaceous
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Dear Primrose, that really is very good 
This just goes to prove, the old ones are still the best. 
This just goes to prove, the old ones are still the best.
Kind Regards, Old Herbaceous.
There's no fool like an old fool.
There's no fool like an old fool.