SONG OF THE AUTOMOBILE.
By Joe Cone.
I am coming, I am coming, don't you hear my thunder roll,
Don't you feel my mighty power thro' your body and your soul;
Don't you dread my awful presence, my momentous throbbing feel?
I'm a dashing, thrashing, bucking, clucking
Auto-mo-bile!
I'm a wonder, I'm a snorter, I'm a bull put on parade,
I'm a devil, I'm a terror for the people who're afraid;
I can paralyze the horses, I can make 'em dance a reel,
I'm a rearing, tearing, rumbling, grumbling
Auto-mo-bile!
Clear the track, ye meek and lowly, for I claim the right of way!
There's no limit to my tenure, or my speed by night or day;
To the woods with everybody, that's the way we devils feel,
I'm a lusty, dusty, ramming, jamming
Auto-mo-bile!