Away in a garage,
No paint for its shell,
The poor Singer Chamois
Did suddenly yell:

'O fix me, O fix me -
I've been here so long;
A 'winter restoration'
And singing this song:-

Only in 'for a respray'
Not the whole bloody works.
I feel so dejected,
I cry till it hurts.

When Christmas is over
And the rebuild is too,
I'll see the green valleys
And the sky oh so blue.

It will all have been worthwhile
To feel young again
And the pleasure I will feel -
The roads I will reign.

-Or am I just dreaming
Of shiny new parts,
While my owner is elsewhere
With pint and some darts?

But wait - here's my stocking...
To the brim filled with spares:
Some kingpins, head gaskets
And other fines wares.

I think there is hope yet,
My wheels they will roll,
To travel the highways
And regain my soul.'

Enough of this banter!
The message is clear:
Get back to your rebuilds
-Wait not the New Year.

So when Spring is with us,
Our Imps, although old,
-Because of their rebuilds,
Are a sight to behold.