English poem
Why, if your Car can fling the Dust aside
by Carolyn Wells (1862–1942)
Why, if your Car can fling the Dust aside, And flying, through the Air of Heaven ride, Were’t not a Shame, were’t not a Shame, I say, Within Speed Limit, tamely to abide?
What! Without asking, stop our Speed immense? And, without asking, Jailward hurried hence! Oh, many a Cop of this Forbidding Mien, Must rue the Memory of his Insolence!