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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 Ford. |
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Almost everyntime I try |
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To go and pass a truck, |
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If I ain't goin' down hill, |
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Dad, Im, out of luck. |
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And even if I get by, |
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It's still a rugged risk, |
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The way this old Ford |
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Keep a hitting and miss. |
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Last week when 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 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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This 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 suffering pup, |
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And cars whizzing by me, |
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Dad, look like 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 both 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 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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So Dad, send the money, |
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See what I can see, |
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Try to find a Cadillac, |
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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 loving son, |
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Henry Junior Ford. |
