Songs of Action

by Arthur Conan Doyle

It was all along o’ master; which master ’as the name
Of a reg’lar true blue sportman, an’ always acts the same;
But we all ’as weaker moments, which master ’e ’ad one,
An’ ’e went and bought a motor-car when motor-cars begun.

I seed it in the stable yard—it fairly turned me sick—
A greasy, wheezy engine as can neither buck nor kick.
You’ve a screw to drive it forrard, and a screw to make it stop,
For it was foaled in a smithy stove an’ bred in a blacksmith shop.

It didn’t want no stable, it didn’t ask no groom,
It didn’t need no nothin’ but a bit o’ standin’ room.
Just fill it up with paraffin an’ it would go all day,
Which the same should be agin the law if I could ’ave my way.

Well, master took ’is motor-car, an’ moted ’ere an’ there,
A frightenin’ the ’orses an’ a poisonin’ the air.
’E wore a bloomin’ yachtin’ cap, but Lor’! wot did ’e know,
Excep’ that if you turn a screw the thing would stop or go?

An’ then one day it wouldn’t go. ’E screwed and screwed again,
But somethin’ jammed, an’ there ’e stuck in the mud of a country lane.
It ’urt ’is pride most cruel, but what was ’e to do?
So at last ’e bade me fetch a ’orse to pull the motor through.

This was the ’orse we fetched ’im; an’ when we reached the car,
We braced ’im tight and proper to the middle of the bar,
And buckled up ’is traces and lashed them to each side,
While ’e ’eld ’is ’ead so ’aughtily, an’ looked most dignified.

Not bad tempered, mind you, but kind of pained and vexed,
And ’e seemed to say, ‘Well, bli’ me! wot will they ask me next?
I’ve put up with some liberties, but this caps all by far,
To be assistant engine to a crocky motor-car!’

Well, master ’e was in the car, a-fiddlin’ with the gear,
And the ’orse was meditatin’, an’ I was standin’ near,
When master ’e touched somethin’—what it was we’ll never know—
But it sort o’ spurred the boiler up and made the engine go.

‘’Old ’ard, old gal!’ says master, and ‘Gently then!’ says I,
But an engine won’t ’eed coaxin’ an’ it ain’t no use to try;
So first ’e pulled a lever, an’ then ’e turned a screw,
But the thing kept crawlin’ forrard spite of all that ’e could do.

And first it went quite slowly and the ’orse went also slow,
But ’e ’ad to buck up faster when the wheels began to go;
For the car kept crowdin’ on ’im and buttin’ ’im along,
And in less than ’alf a minute, sir, that ’orse was goin’ strong.