In the car, hurry, worry,
Running late, worry, hurry.
Turn the key, come on, start it
Clicks and whirls but doesn’t catch it.
Growl and grind, and fading power
Turn and turn, and turning slower
Wretched beast, I hear what happened
Click and nothing, battery flattened
Out the box, the biggest hammer
Instead choose the ratchet spanner
Turn and turn the clicking ratchet
Drop it, curse and fail to catch it.
Down beside the engine block
Out of reach and really stuck
Scrape my knuckles, fail to reach it
How I hate the wretched ratchet.
I hate the car, its fickle state
All the worse when running late
Now I’ve really lost my cool
Gotta have the wretched tool
Dripping blood I gotta get it
Cursing blue of course I blew it
Straining hard could barely touch it
Failed to reach the wretched ratchet.
Need a stick to poke it loose
Saw the hammer resting close
Reached and grabbed and… darn it… NO…
The wretched hammer hit my toe
Darn it all, the wretched rush
Now can’t walk to catch the bus.
This piece of vaguely rhyming alliterative nonsense was brought to you by the July #BlogBattle prompt of Wretched.