Come, all you little Runabouts And gather round my Knee; I'll tell you of a Touring Car As bad as could be: It worked its Klaxon overtime To make a Horrid Noise And thought it Fun to muss up Hens And little Girls and Boys. It used to blow its Tires out To hear its Owner swear, And loved to balk on Trolley Tracks To give his Friends a Scare. At last this naughty Touring Car Got drunk on Too Much Oil, And went a-boiling up the Road As hard as it could boil, And went a-plunging, tumbling down A dreadful, dark Ravine; And there it burns and burns and burns In smelly Gasoline! Another little Touring Car Was very, very good; It always minded Brake and Wheel, And never splashed its Hood. It wouldn't skid, nor anger Folks By giving them a Shove, But cooed as gently through its Horn As any Sucking Dove. It never grew Unmannerly To Market-Cart or Dray, But whispered, "Please," and, "Thank you, Sir!" To those that blocked its Way. It never scattered Bolts and Plugs About the Countryside, But did its Level Best to be Its Owner's Joy and Pride. So, when 'twas Time to yield its Place To Models fresh and new, This lovely little Touring Car Developed Planes and flew! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN by THOMAS HARDY THE HOMES OF ENGLAND by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS THE SCARE-FIRE by ROBERT HERRICK THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 68 by OMAR KHAYYAM THE LOTOS-EATERS by ALFRED TENNYSON |