A Spring Song

          There’s the song of the croakers,

        The laugh of the jokers,

The bay of the watchdog that cometh afar;

       But the song that is loudest,

       Of which we are proudest,

Is the cheery old song of the open car.

       There’s the song of the robin,

       The neighing of “Dobbin”,

The song of the rooster who crows at the star;

       But the music that thills us,

       Though maybe it kills us,

Is the gladsome old song of the open car.

       There’s the songs of the rhymers,

       The old and new timers,

Who sing like the heralds of joy that they are;

       But the song that surpasses,

       That catches the masses,

Is the wheezy old song of the open car.

Mar. 29, ‘10