Wake! For the “Honk,” that scatters into flight

Wake! For the “Honk,” that scatters into flight The Hens before it in a Flapping Fright, Drives straight up to your Door, and bids you Come Out for a Morning Hour of Sheer Delight!

Come, fill the Tank, adjust the Valve and Spring, Your Automobile Garments 'round you Fling; The Bird Of Time wants but to get away; (I think that name’s a rather Clever Thing!)

And as the Corkscrew drawing out the Cork, I crank my Car and try to make it work. You know how little while we have to Ride; And once departed, may go to New York.

Whether at Naishápúr or Babylon, Whether the Car shall jerk or sweetly run, The Wine of Life is in a Motor Trip, (Though all the Parts keep breaking One by One!)