Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 120, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 733 & 734, September/October 2002

Poor Frank was losing patience as he worked beneath the hood;

He’d guessed from the beginning that the trade-in was no good.

Poor wife (who picked the lemon) was now pulling out her hair—

For sound of Frank’s profanity was heard most everywhere.

She tried to calm him with a beer, refrigerator-cool;

Her efforts were in vain — the man was stubborn as a mule.

She watched with apprehension as he ripped the engine out

And plugged her ears when Frank began to jump and scream and shout.

Then suddenly, a silence fell upon the naked Nash;

The only thing left in it was the phony leather dash.

The carburetor, battery — the engine with that quirk,

All strewn upon the lawn to watch, as Frank grew more berserk.

The ranting and the raving brought his wife a timely scare,

As she looked and saw that Frank possessed a most horrific glare,

His eyes were bugged and glassy; murder raged inside his head

When he reached the sad conclusion: Just the battery was dead!

Revenge was in control as Frank went on to smash and mar,

Then was taken into custody: the evidence — crowbar.

The judge gave him no mercy; Frank choked out a guilty plea...

And paid the fine for reason of ‘Assault on Battery’!