The rusted frame was hid with paint
the pitted chrome did gleam,
the leather seats were Naugahyde
that burst at every seam,
A rumble and a cloud of smoke
the salesman turned the key -
Papa took a look at Mom
Momma looked at me,
The salesman wouldn't toot the horn
something about the wires -
Momma slowly walked away
Papa kicked the tires,
"I've got a fellow coming back
to buy this car no doubt."
papa only gave a grunt
and pulled the ashtray out,
Can you Sir put something down -
or have you got a trade?
I still remember to this day
the smile Papa made.
zc
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