Jones:  "What's the matter with your Ford, Smith; you haven't been running it lately?"
     Smith:  "I ran into a chicken and smashed the front wheel all to splinters."

*    *    *

     Sputter, sputter, little car,
          How you dislike what you are.
     With a rip and with a hitch
          Down the bank into a ditch.
     You've been lying there for hours,
          While the sun above you soared,
     Wishing you had been an auto,
          'Stead of just a little Ford.

*    *    *

    Blankets and pins,
          A kick in the shins,
     When you get a Ford,
          Your trouble begins.

*    *    *

There was an old soldier and he had an old
     Ford,
So he opened up the throttle
And he kicked up the dust,
Now he's raking in the nickels with his jitney
     'bus.