A Famous Old Lady
There once was an old lady
A cautious one was she
But she still drove her motor-car
At the age of one-oh-three
She was feared, and yes, respected
On every county road
'Cause she drove down the center-line
And in "white-knuckle" mode
And if you were behind her
You were certain to be late
Because she always raced along
At the speed of twenty-eight
All up and own our county roads
Where forty is the norm
She steadfastly maintained twenty-eight
Past forest, field, and farm
Well, then, one day it happened
I won't forget the day
She drove into a wagon
Piled high with bales of hay
The wagon slid across the road
Cut down a 'lectric pole
The sparking set the hay on fire
Her car did one full roll
She wasn't realy injured,
But quite irate, they say
The wagon she rear-ended
Was in her right of way!
Insurance settled out of court
Details were never heard
The farmer simply grins and says
"The figure was absurd"
No longer does he transport hay
Or even grow the stuff
His cattle-barn sits idle nnow
'Cause he has cash enough
Oh, he still plants a garden
For just himself and wife
Fresh veggies do taste better
As they ease their way though life
The lady's in an old-folks home
Down by the Middle Creek
I think she's doing very well
Her birthday was last week
Her party made the T.V. News
She's reached a hundred-five
She'll probably live a few more years
'Cause now she does not drive!
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