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Lagonda


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In among the silver birches,

Winding ways of tarmac wander

And the signs to Bussock Bottom,

Tussock Wood and Windy Break.

Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches

Catch the lights of our Lagonda

As we drive to Wendy’s party,

Lemon curd and Christmas cake

 

Rich the makes of motor whirring

Past the pine plantation purring

Come up Hupmobile Delage.

Short the way our chauffeurs travel

Crunching over private gravel,

Each from out his warm garage.

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Ah, dear, dear ,Johnners....... don't you miss him tewwibly?

 

Seem to recall that someone wrote a rather better version of this ode ;)

 

Impossible! How awful to think about it - by the way isn't abroad awful.

 

How could anyone do better than Betj.

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If I can find it, I'll PM you but check that no one is looking over your shoulder. :eek:

 

Anyone who looks over my shoulder gets a sore jaw! Look forward to it!

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