Lirik Lagu Lord Mr. Ford - Jerry Reed
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Well, if you're one of the millions who own one of them gas-drinking, piston-clinking, air-polluting, smoke-belching, four-wheeled buggies from Detroit City, then pay attention. I'm about to sing your song son.
Well, I'm not a man appointed judgeTo bear ill-will and hold a grudgeBut I think it's time I said me a few choice wordsAll about that demon automobileA metal box with the polyglass wheelThe end result to a dream of Henry FordWell I've got a car that's mine aloneThat me and the finance company ownA ready-made pile of manufactured griefAnd if I ain't out of gas in the pouring rainI'm a-changin' a flat in a hurricaneI once spent three days lost on a cloverleafWell it ain't just the smoke and the traffic jamThat makes me the bitter fool I amBut this four-wheel buggy isA-dollaring me to deathFor gas and oils and fluids and greaseAnd wires and tires and anti freezeAnd them accessoriesWell honey, that's something elseWell you can get a stereo tape and a color TVGet a back-seat bar and reclining seatsAnd just pay once a month, like you do your rentWell I figured it up and over a period of timeThis four thousand dollar car of mineCosts fourteen thousand dollarsAnd ninety-nine cents, well now
{Chorus}:Lord Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could seeWhat your simple horseless carriage has becomeWell it seems your contribution to manTo say the least, got a little out of handWell Lord Mr. Ford what have you done
Now the average American father and motherOwn one whole car and half anotherAnd I bet that half a car is aTrick to buy, don't youBut the thing that amazes me, I guessIs the way we measure a man's successBy the kind of automobile he can afford to buyWell now, red light, green light, traffic copRight turn, no turn, must turn, stopGet out the credit card honey, we're out of gasWell now, all the cars placed end to endWould reach to the moon and back againAnd there'd probably be someFool pull out to passWell now, how I yearn for the good old daysWithout that carbon monoxide hazeA-hanging over the roar of the interstateWell if the Lord that made the moon and starsWould have meant for me and you to have carsHe'd have seen that we was all bornWith a parking space
{Chorus}
Come away with me LucilleIn my smoking, choking automobile
Well, I'm not a man appointed judgeTo bear ill-will and hold a grudgeBut I think it's time I said me a few choice wordsAll about that demon automobileA metal box with the polyglass wheelThe end result to a dream of Henry FordWell I've got a car that's mine aloneThat me and the finance company ownA ready-made pile of manufactured griefAnd if I ain't out of gas in the pouring rainI'm a-changin' a flat in a hurricaneI once spent three days lost on a cloverleafWell it ain't just the smoke and the traffic jamThat makes me the bitter fool I amBut this four-wheel buggy isA-dollaring me to deathFor gas and oils and fluids and greaseAnd wires and tires and anti freezeAnd them accessoriesWell honey, that's something elseWell you can get a stereo tape and a color TVGet a back-seat bar and reclining seatsAnd just pay once a month, like you do your rentWell I figured it up and over a period of timeThis four thousand dollar car of mineCosts fourteen thousand dollarsAnd ninety-nine cents, well now
{Chorus}:Lord Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could seeWhat your simple horseless carriage has becomeWell it seems your contribution to manTo say the least, got a little out of handWell Lord Mr. Ford what have you done
Now the average American father and motherOwn one whole car and half anotherAnd I bet that half a car is aTrick to buy, don't youBut the thing that amazes me, I guessIs the way we measure a man's successBy the kind of automobile he can afford to buyWell now, red light, green light, traffic copRight turn, no turn, must turn, stopGet out the credit card honey, we're out of gasWell now, all the cars placed end to endWould reach to the moon and back againAnd there'd probably be someFool pull out to passWell now, how I yearn for the good old daysWithout that carbon monoxide hazeA-hanging over the roar of the interstateWell if the Lord that made the moon and starsWould have meant for me and you to have carsHe'd have seen that we was all bornWith a parking space
{Chorus}
Come away with me LucilleIn my smoking, choking automobile
