Ellis Parker Butler (Эллис Паркер Батлер)
The Ballade of the Automobile
When our yacht sails seaward on steady keel And the wind is moist with breath of brine And our laughter tells of our perfect weal, We may carol the praises of ruby wine; But if, automobiling, my woes combine And fuel gives out in my road-machine And it’s sixteen miles to that home of mine-- Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline! When our coach rides smoothly on iron-shod wheel With a deft touch guiding each taut drawn line And the inn ahead holds a royal meal, We may carol the praises of ruby wine; But when, on some long and steep incline, In a manner entirely unforeseen The motor stops with a last sad whine-- Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline! When the air is crisp and the brooks congeal And our sleigh glides on with a speed divine While the gay bells echo with peal on peal, We may carol the praises of ruby wine; But when, with perverseness most condign, In the same harsh snowstorm, cold and keen, My auto stops at the six-mile sign-- Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline! ENVOY When yacht or Coach Club fellows dine We may carol the praises of ruby wine; But when Automobile Clubmen convene Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline!
Ellis Parker Butler’s other poems:
884
