Property:Has text

<div class="poem"> For it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the song I sing In the blaze of the noonday bright, And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the raucous ring Of my voice in the starry night; And the echoes quake and shiver and shake, In their rocky retreats afar; For I am the puffing, the chugging, and chuffing And masterful Motor Car! </div> +

<div class="poem"> Oh! it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the song I sing In the cool of the morning gray, And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the raucous ring Of my voice at the close of day; And the echoes wake—and the echoes quake, In their sylvan retreats afar; For I am the fizzing, the buzzing, and whizzing, Redoubtable Motor Car! </div> +

<div class="poem"> Through the haze of the dreamiest days of the gleamiest Summers I speed to and fro, In the height of the glorious, mighty, uproarious Tempest I come and I go; I’m the tool and the servant, the cool and observant Rare creature of project and plan, And the coy and ingenuous toy of the strenuous Era of Civilized Man. </div> +

<div class="poem"> I’m the coy and ingenuous toy of the strenuous Era of Civilized Man, I’m the truly respectable, duly delectable Outcome of project and plan; And my gassy and thunderful, massy and wonderful Shape splits the landscape in twain, As I race where the fountain speaks grace to the mountain peaks— Then over valley and plain. </div> +

<div class="poem"> And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the song I sing In the cool of the ev'ning’s hush. And it’s—“honk, honk-honk!”—is the raucous ring Of my voice in the morning’s blush; And in the echoes wake—and the echoes shake, In their woody retreats afar; For I am the purring, the whizzing, and whirring And marvelous Motor Car! </div> +

<div class="poem"> I’m the snappiest, pluckiest, happy-go-luckiest Work of Man’s reckless career— The machine of divinity green asininity Never can conquer or steer; And there’s never a note or bar honked by the Motor Car Rounding an angle or curve, But it cheats the pedestrian—beats the equestrian— Out of his poise and his nerve. </div> +

<div class="poem"> Mine was the thought in that early day, Stirred for the human weal, That inspired the sage In that darkened age With that vision of Life—the Wheel. </div> +

<div class="poem"> I am the Spirit of Things that Are, Born of an urgent need, Of the Force that lies In a Man's surmise In a day ere the Age of Speed. </div> +

<div class="poem"> Then came the horse as the slave of man, Carriage and coach and four, And the years flashed by And the time was nigh, To reveal what the future bore. </div> +

<div class="poem"> I am the Spirit of Things that Are, Born of an urgent need, Of the Force that lies In a Man's surmise In a day ere the Age of Speed. </div> +

<div class="poem"> Then came the quickening urge of Trade, Commerce must travel far, And my wings I gave To this earth-born slave With the joys of the motor car. </div> +

<div class="poem"> I was at hand when the primal herd Toiled o'er the heavy sledge, As they dragged their load To their cave abode By the rippling river's edge. </div> +

<div class="poem"> The swift and silent pedal machine, We once considered no wise mean. O’er us its magic has ceased to steal, Since turning a Six Studebaker wheel. </div> +

<div class="poem"> We'll warrant your mind will quickly fill With thoughts for a Six so full of thrill. To drive the ideal Six Automobile, Get back of a Six Studebaker wheel. </div> +

<div class="poem"> Like a panther leaping through the air, With plenty of power and some to spare, For a Six Studebaker more of zeal, You'll have when once you turn the wheel. </div> +

<div class="poem"> You may have your blooded speeding horse, We have given him up without remorse. The glory that all the nerves can feel, Is in a Six Studebaker wheel. </div> +

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<div class="poem"> —The Car with Character. </div> +

<div class="poem"> With miles of road like polished floor, At sixty per and sometimes more, We glide with ease mid laughters peal, Safe at a Six Studebaker wheel. </div> +