The automobile owner crawled
With haste into his car
And said good-by, for he was called
To travel fast and far.
He grasped the steering wheel with glee
And gave the clutch a yank,
And then, with objurgations, he
Climbed down again to crank.
Again he mounted to the seat
Prepared like wind to fly,
Yet there he lingered in the street;
The water tank was dry.
He filled the tank; it seemed a cinch,
Once more he starts to chauff,
Behold, he does not move an inch—
The differential's off.
In rage he toils with might and main
Till he is faint and weak;
Again he starts—and stops again;
The tire's sprung a leak.
The shades of night are falling fast,
But joy illumes his brow,
He shoots ahead—his trouble past,
Pray who can catch him now?
And yet, around the corner we
May find the same machine;
Its owner is not there, for he
Has gone for gasoline.
Council Bluffs Nonpareil.
SHORT STORY OF SPEED.
Thisisthewayheracedalong
Ateighteenmilesanhour;
This the speed he walked back home
When busted was his power.