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Dear Dad, don't get mad, |
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What I'm asking for |
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Is by the next semester |
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Can I get another car ? |
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This one here is sick'ning |
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On a wide dual road. |
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I might as well be walking |
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As to drive this old |
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Ford. Almost everytime |
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I try To go and pass a truck, |
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If I ain't goin' down hill, |
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Dad, I'm, out of luck. |
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And even if |
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I get by, |
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It's still a rugged risk, |
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The way this old |
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Ford Keep a hitting and a miss. |
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Last week when |
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I was driving |
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On my way to school, |
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I almost got a ticket ' |
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Bout a freeway traffic rule. |
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It's now a violation |
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Driving under forty-five, |
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And if I push to fifty, |
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This here |
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Ford will nosedive. |
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Dad, I'm in great danger |
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Out here trying to drive. |
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The way this |
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Ford wiggles |
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When I'm approaching forty-five/ |
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I have to nurse it along |
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Like a little stubborn pup, |
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And cars whizzing by me, |
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Dad, look like |
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I'm backing up. |
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She just don't have the appetite |
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For gas somehow, |
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And Dad, I got four carburetors |
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Hooked up on it now. |
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I tried to hook another |
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To see if |
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I'd do a little good, |
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But ain't no place to put it ' |
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Less I perforate the hood. |
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Well Dad, send the money, |
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See what I can see, |
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Try to find a |
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Cadillac, |
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A Sixty-two or three. |
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Just something that won't worry us |
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To keep it on the road. |
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Sincerely, your beloved son, |
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Henry Junior |
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Ford |