|Publisher:||BCR (Bibliographical Center for Research)|
|Product dimensions:||9.69(w) x 7.44(h) x 0.64(d)|
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TO 'ENRY PTE. SMITH WAXES LYRICAL ON THE SUBJECT OF THE FORD MOTOR LORRY, SOMETIMES KNOWN AS THE " TIN LIZZIE," BUT ALWAYS CALLED IN THE BALKANS A " 'ENRY " You ain't exactly beautiful; no, 'Enry, that you ain't; Your wicked ways at times would raise a cuss-word from a saint. You're a cross between a bedstead and a spider on the spree, An' 'ow you ever goes at all's a miracle to me ! On a cold and frosty mornin', it's some job to make you start, You stiff, back-firin' blighter, that's the time you break my 'eart! An' if it's 'ot, old kettlepot, your water don't 'arf boil, An' while you run, you shake like fun, and stink of burnin' Your torque-rods.bend like putty, and your coil's a box o' tricks ; Your carburation's sulky an' your commutator sticks. You're simply " It " at missing (either cylinders or nuts), But none the less, I must confess you've got a lot of guts ! You've bumped your way up mountains on a track all bends and rocks, Though your first-speed band's the limit and it gives the left foot socks! The 'ills was steep, the ruts was deepthe Staff cars all 'ad fits But you got up 'em some'ow, though you shook yourself to bits ! You've ploughed your way across the sands (and sand's the worst by far), Dry, shifting sand's a death-trap for a pukka moty car There ain't no grip, the back wheels slip, the front ones will not steer ; But you get through, though why you do, I ain't exactly clear! You've nosed your way 'crost marshy tracks where cars ain't never bin, Your wheels 'ave stuck in slimy muck, your axle's sunk right in. But, when we dig you out again, you start up with a roar, An' off you go, nor care a blow, till in you flops once more ! Now fair is fair's my motto, soit's up to me t...