Arthur Rodman’s “Jingles” Booklet-Pages 19-20

    HOMEWARD BOUND

When I’ve labored hard all day
  And have made the daily round,
What a pleasure when I feel
  It is time for homeward bound.

When I’ve traveled many miles
  And have gone from town to town,
What a joy comes to my heart
  When my train is homeward bound.

When I’m settled in my berth
  And you hear a measured sound,
What care I if others smile–
  I am snoring homeward bound.

If my train is losing time,
  Tho good reasons may be found,
I’m impatient and complain,
  For you see I’m homeward bound.

Home to those dear loving ones,
  What a welcome I will find;
They won’t see my glaring faults,
  For ’tis said that love is blind.

Home! That cheerful cozy spot,
  Where we all in love are bound;
Oh, how slowly time doth fly
  When my train is homeward bound.

          DEAR OLD JIM

Once we had a horse named Jim,
And we thought a heap o’ him;
Had more sense than many men–
Wish we had him back again,
          Dear old Jim.

Poor old Jim has gone away,
Where good horses sleep all day;
How we loved that dear old Jim,
Nothing was too good for him–
          Dear old Jim.

    YOUR AUTOMOBILE

Creature of a wizard brain,
Swifter than a railroad train.
Like an arrow from a bow,
Ninety miles an hour you go.

Quick to mind the slightest touch,
Whether throttle, brake or clutch.
Like some monster thing of life,
Eager for the clash and strife.

Graceful giant, swift and strong,
How it costs when you go wrong!
Six steel lungs to hold your breath;
If they burst it’s certain death.

Do more things to make one swear,–
Smell the brimstone in the air!
Complications oft arise
More’n you’d think beneath the skies.

Out of gasoline and oil;
Wouldn’t that just make you boil!
Thought you filled her up last night.
Guess you loafed with neighbor White.

Nearest tank two miles or more,
Holy smoke! That makes you sore.
Didn’t see that crooked nail,
Flat you go with sickening wail.

Doff your coat and go to work,
There’s a job you cannot shirk.
Hot and dusty? I should say!
But you’ll soon be on your way.

Shoo there, chicken! Drat your hide!
Clean-cut job. We’ll have him fried.
There’s an auto stuck, I guess,
Looks to me like one bad mess.

Great big hole in each front time (sic – “tire”),
All the bearings hot as fire.
Compensating valve is loose;
Batteries are out of juice.

Carburetor’s cracked, I think;
Differential on the blink.
Past good record we’ll applaud,
But from now her name is Maud.

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