Well if you're one of the millions
Who own one of them
Gas drinkin'
Piston clinkin'
Air pollutin'
Smoke belchin'
Four wheeled buggies from Detroit City
Then pay attention
I'm about to sing your song son
Well now I'm not a man to point or judge
To bear ill-will or hold a grudge
But I think it's time
I said me a few
Choice words
All about that demon the automobile
The metal monster with the polyglass wheels
The end result of a dream of Henry Ford
Well now I've got a car
That's mine alone
That me and the finance company own
A ready made pile of manufactured grief
And if I ain't out of gas in the pourin' rain
I'm changin' a flat in a hurricane
I once spent three days
Lost on a cloverleaf
Well it ain't just the smoke in a traffic jam
That makes me the bitter fool I am
But that four-wheeled buggy is dollarin' me to death
For gas and oil and fluids and grease
And wires and tires and antifreeze
And then them accessories
Well honey that's somethin' else
Well you can get stereo tape
And a color TV
Get a backseat bar
And reclinin' seats
And just pay once a month like you do your rent
Well I figured it up and over a period of time
This four thousand dollar car of mine
Cost fourteen thousand dollars
And ninety-nine cents
Well now Lord Mr Ford I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
Well it seems your contribution to man
To say the least got a little out of hand
Well Lord Mr Ford what have you done
Now the average American father and mother
Own one whole car and half another
And I'll bet that half a car
Is a trick
To drive don't you
But the thing that amazes me I guess
Is the way we measure a man's success
By the kind of an automobile he can afford to buy
Well now it's red light
Green light traffic cop
Right turn no turn
Must turn stop
Get out the credit card honey
We're out of gas
Well now all the cars placed end to end
Would reach to the moon and back again
And there'd probably be some
Poor fool pull out to pass
Well now how I yearn for the good ol' days
Without that carbon dioxide haze
A hangin' over the roar on the interstate
Well if the Lord that made the moon and stars
Would've meant for me and you
To have cars
He'd've seen that we was born
With a parkin' space
Lord Mr Ford I just wish that you could see
What your simple horseless carriage has become
Well it seems your contribution to man
To say the least got a little out of hand
Well Lord Mr Ford what have you done
Come away with me Lucille
In my smokin' chokin' automobile