The Dying Chauffeur

by Rudyard Kipling

　　

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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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