He started up the car, its old engine rumbled.
Like a man, once his stomach grumbled.
As he started down the old, dusty road;
But he never did, carry enough of a load.
He never knew that this was true;
That he’d end up like a starving roo.

The spinifex were daggers, sticking out the ground;
The place was very quiet, without any sound.
The sun was a glowing orb, in the middle of the sky;
He did not know that many people will die.
The man smelt the smell of diesel;
The engine made the sound of a scremin’ weasel.

He walked out the car, with a frown on his face,
Down to the engine, skipping to a pace.
He saw petrol running, like it would be out of a tap;
All yucky and sticky, like the old tree sap.
He knew he was stranded, there was no such word as hope;
All he had was a bit of food, and a long yellow rope.

But he lived to tell the great story;
There was nothing to do with gooey or gory.
He struggled to get out with a scratch on his back;
He told them to always be on track.
But always, always, be prepared.


Please give me your opinions....
This is for an English Assignment.

Thanx, Hunter117.