Into her presence he gaily pranced, <br />A very fat spark, and a bit advanced. <br />With a Samson tread on the earth he trod, <br />He was stayed and gaitered, and fifty odd. <br /> <br />And she was a tulip just unfurled, <br />The sweetest thing in the motor world. <br /> <br />Her body was one of which poets dreamed; <br />Eighteen -- twenty, or so she seemed. <br /> <br />Her air was haughty, her spirit proud, <br />But properly governed, as all allowed. <br /> <br />"Pity," he said, "my sad condition; <br />My heart's in a state of advanced ignition. <br /> <br />"Ask me to do some desperate deed, <br />And I'll do it at once at my topmost speed." <br /> <br />"Sir," said the maiden, "pray be seated; <br />I fear from your bearing you're somewhat heated. <br /> <br />"And I trust that a timely lubrication <br />Of throttle will cool your circulation." <br /> <br />As a well-made mixture she indicated, <br />With joy and gladness he radiated. <br /> <br />"Oh, come," said he, "in this soft spring weather, <br />Let us run over the world together!" <br /> <br />But she slipped his clutch with a gesture mocking, <br />"Your heart," she said; "I can hear it knocking. <br /> <br />"You haven't the gear at my pace to last; <br />Both men and motors -- I like them fast. <br /> <br />"And I think that in me you have missed your mission; <br />You are only an old-style tube-ignition!" <br /> <br />With a sidelong motion he left the place; <br />For weal or woe he was off his base. <br /> <br />He drove his car to the cliffs of Dover, <br />Made one short circuit and ran her over. <br /> <br />And the stormy Petrol her rest is taking, <br />Where only the wild waves do the "braking".<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-motor-courtship/
