‘Canta’ was a black Ford car

My parents had a little car,
‘Canta’ was its name,
‘Can’t afFord it! won’t go far!’,
– some modest trips their aim.

My father fixed a hole above.
– A puzzled frown, reproof,
when off to show his friends he drove,
‘What is that on your roof?!’

He’d put a heavy iron(“-flat”),
to make that patch there stick.
We’d many ’ventures after that,
– no need for being quick.

Down to the beach, or up the vale
to visit my ‘Mamgu*’;
‘I THINK I CAN’ – strained not to fail,
– up hills chugged valiantly.

Off we went on holiday,
perched up on blankets high,
with ‘Spangles’ rationed on the way,
and, ‘Shall we play I-Spy?’

We always took some rugs in case
a while to wait at night,
while calling AA to the place
to help put Canta right.

We never had another car,
of Canta’s special pride
but later as we travelled far
we missed that bumpy ride!

*Mam-gee the 'g' is hard, South-Wales word for grandmother; means ‘dear mother’. I’m one now.