Used Car Salesman

This is a fictional poem.

I'm a used car salesman and I have plenty of cars for sale.

But don't drive them down hill because the brakes will fail.

The radiators are shot and they will boil.

My cars leak transmission fluid and oil.

I'm dishonest and I'll rip you off, believe me there's no doubt.

After driving them twenty miles, the transmissions fall out.

I use sawdust to make worn-out gears run smooth for a few days.

The Police are here to arrest me and now I'm going to pay.

They're arresting me for rolling back the odometers and I'm going to jail.

Please buy one of my cars, I need the money for bail.