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The Dying Chauffeur. Rudyard Kipling

 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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