THE PARTS MAN PRAYER

I work behind the counter, in an autoparts store.

Sometimes I'm called a genius and sometimes I'm called much more.

I say I'm no mechanic but when their job goes sick.

Everyone comes in and asks me what makes the damn thing tick.

I'm supposed to know the number of nuts and bolts and gears.

For every machine ever made for more than a hundred years.

I'm supposed to have the answer for everything unknown.

To every Tom, Dick, and Harry for all their questions thrown.

My life would be a pleasure and I'd grin from ear to ear.

If only they would tell me their Model, Make, Year !