The Manual of Bentley 
(with more abject apologies to dead poets, this week W. Stevens)

Call the raiser of large cars,
The industrial one, and bid him jack
In solid steps safe sufficency.
Let the wrenches lie in rows
Upon the tray of red, and let the parts
Be laid on last night's newspaper.
Lets see front is front?
The only manual is the manual of Bentley

Take from the cabinet of tin,
With the decals, that meter
On which inscribed is tiny print
And connect it to here and there.
If the needle does not move, it tells
Of parts no longer live, or dumb
Owners, connections crossed.
The only manual is the manual of Bentley

Alistair