The Manual of Bentley (with more abject apologies to dead poets, this week W. Stevens) Call the raiser of large cars, The industrial one, and bid him jack In solid steps safe sufficency. Let the wrenches lie in rows Upon the tray of red, and let the parts Be laid on last night's newspaper. Lets see front is front? The only manual is the manual of Bentley Take from the cabinet of tin, With the decals, that meter On which inscribed is tiny print And connect it to here and there. If the needle does not move, it tells Of parts no longer live, or dumb Owners, connections crossed. The only manual is the manual of Bentley
Alistair
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