Of all the vehicles we meet, In air and sea and on the street, I humbly sing the praise of -- feet. It is not widely understood How safe are feet, how soundly good, How firm with supple hardihood. Consider: feet run not away; Where feet are put, there feet will stay; Or turned, feet promptly will obey. Further consider: feet will not, However worn, or pinched, or hot, Explode and wreck your chariot. And think: however feet may ache, How many million trips they make Without a blow-out or a break! And though the feet are punctured, too, They mend themselves without ado, And plod along as good as new. Feet need no license; feet may go In narrowest pathways to and fro, The fairest hidden nooks they know. Feet linger through a pleasant scene; Feet run not out of gasoline; A handy brook, and feet are clean. Feet in all weathers boldly run; Heedless of mud their miles are spun, Nor by the snow are feet undone. Feet run not over dog or boy; Do not with raucous horn annoy, Nor throw their dust on others' joy. In fine, on feet I'll travel far, The noblest vehicles there are -- Till I can buy a touring-car! |