Cars

I'd like to journey back in time,
go back a hundred years.
I'd like to meet those gentlemen
who were our pioneers.
I'd like to go back right away
before this very night's out,
See, I'd like to meet old Henry Ford
and punch his bloody lights out.

'Cause, he's the one responsible
for this four wheel bloody joke.
This stinkin' rotten, worn out car
that always keeps me broke.
I'll never pay the mongrel off
It just gives me the shits.
When you give 'em your deposit
then the car just falls to bits.

They're made from worn out jam tins
so they'll soon be full of rust
and they're always blowin' fuses
and the tyres always bust.
'cause if you get the motor runnin'
then the brakes will fall apart
and when it drops down one degree
the bastards never start.

They are the greatest curse to man
since Adam first met Eve.
The trouble that they cause for us
no sane man could believe
I know the thing a bloke should do
to save his broken heart.
Is burn the rotten heap of junk
and buy a horse and cart.

Copyright; The Larriken