Sinking feeling springs eternal...

Truckload of banshees muffled
as more'n yours truly wails
he feels wheely tired
as one after another
significant snafu devilish

troublesome impish of the
poe pervert car -
tell driver unveils
scarier than Stephen
King's macabre tales
one illusory monster with

(by Scott) matted pointy scales,
who infuriatingly rants and rails
against dependence on
unstable, unpredictable, and
unmentionable car rear,
where his ruffled quilted wings,

stand on edge quiver and quails
analogous to how Jack
and Jill arduously lugged pails
splashing water to and fro
hither and yon some

drips drops long as nine inch nails,
actually pleasant sensation
though futile schlepping,
sloshing, and spilling bucketful
after bucketful eternal

rhyming task without reason
synonymous with Sisyphus,
but lo and behold
agony no longer assails
only fleeting ecstasy, think
Bos taurus came back

to animal farm -
carting... yup countless hay bales
(sh....) stolen goods,
under the whinny some nose
of neighboring Equus
at Clyde on dales,

one Mister Ed, a horse -
laugh he exhales,
said bovine won't be cowed,
cuz fodder knows beast,
that charity never fails.