Hunka Tin - a poem

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Model T Ford Forum: Forum 2008: Hunka Tin - a poem
Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Rick Wellman on Friday, December 26, 2008 - 01:12 pm:

I take no credit for the following. It was a book of poems collected by my grandmother years ago and I found it amusing. My other grandparents probably drove Model T ambulances when they served in France in World War I in the ambulance corps.

Happy Holidays to all who have helped me so much in this hobby (obsession).

Rick

HUNKA TIN

A clever parody on Kipling's famous poem "Gunga Din," reprinted from American Field Service Bulletin [WWI]

You may talk about your voitures*
When you're sitting round the quarters,
But when it comes to getting blesses* in-
Take a little tip from me,
Let those heavy motors be,
Pin you faith on Henry F.'s old Hunka Tin.
Give her essence* and de l'eau,*
Crank her up and let her go,
You back firin', spark-plug foulin' Hunka Tin.

The paint is not so good,
And no doubt you'll find the hood
Will rattle like a boiler shop en route;
The cooler's sure to boil
And perhaps she's leakin' oil,
Then often times the horn declines to toot.
But when the night is black,
And there's blesses to take back,
And they hardly give you time to take a smoke;
It's mighty good to feel,
When you're sitting at the wheel,
She'll be running when the bigger cars are broke.

After all the wars are past,
And we're taken home at last,
To our reward of which the preacher sings;
When those ukulele sharps
Will be strumming golden harps,
And the aviators all have reg'lar wings.
When the Kaiser is in hell,
With the furnace drawing well,
Paying for his million different kinds of sin;
If they're running short of coal,
Show me how to reach the hole,
And I'll cast a few loads down with Hunka Tin.

Yes, Tin, Tin, Tin!
You exasperating puzzle, Hunka Tin!
I've abused you and I've flayed you
But by Henry Ford who made you,
You are better than a Packard, Hunka Tin!

*Voitures is the French word for automobiles; blesses were wounded soldiers; essence,for gasoline; l'eau, for water.


Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Fred Houston on Saturday, December 27, 2008 - 01:14 pm:

A short, romantic poem from the "FordOwner" magazine;

They met at midnight,
But...they shall never meet again,
For she was a north-bound Tin Lizzie,
And he was a west-bound train.


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