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Once she was straight
And full of pep,
Had a fast gait
And kept her step.
Now she is faded
And beginning to wrinkle,
Her eyes look jaded
And refuse to twinkle.
Her time is not long,
‘Cause her lungs are weak,
Her voice once strong
Is reduced to a squeak.
My eyes they fill
When I’m tempted to part,
Because she still
Holds a place in my heart.
She carried me to hunt
She carried me to marry,
Without a single grunt
or suggestions to tarry.
Along the countryside
Or down by the river,
I’ve enjoyed every ride
In that dear old “flivver.”
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