| Song | Lord, Mr. Ford |
| Artist | Jerry Reed |
| Album | Super Hits |
| 作曲 : Feller | |
| 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 judge | |
| To bear ill-will and hold a grudge | |
| But I think it's time I said me a few choice words | |
| All about that demon automobile | |
| A metal box with the polyglass wheel | |
| The end result to a dream of Henry Ford | |
| Well I've got a car that's mine alone | |
| That me and the finance company own | |
| A ready-made pile of manufactured grief | |
| And if I ain't out of gas in the pouring rain | |
| I'm a-changin' a flat in a hurricane | |
| I once spent three days lost on a cloverleaf | |
| Well it ain't just the smoke and the traffic jam | |
| That makes me the bitter fool I am | |
| But this four-wheel buggy is | |
| A-dollaring me to death | |
| For gas and oils and fluids and grease | |
| And wires and tires and anti freeze | |
| And them accessories | |
| Well honey, that's something else | |
| Well you can get a stereo tape and a color TV | |
| Get a back-seat bar and reclining seats | |
| And just pay once a month, like you do your rent | |
| Well I figured it up and over a period of time | |
| This four thousand dollar car of mine | |
| Costs fourteen thousand dollars | |
| And ninety-nine cents, well now | |
| {Chorus}: | |
| Lord Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could see | |
| What your simple horseless carriage has become | |
| Well it seems your contribution to man | |
| To say the least, got a little out of hand | |
| Well Lord Mr. Ford what have you done | |
| Now the average American father and mother | |
| Own one whole car and half another | |
| And I bet that half a car is a | |
| Trick to buy, don't you | |
| But the thing that amazes me, I guess | |
| Is the way we measure a man's success | |
| By the kind of automobile he can afford to buy | |
| Well now, red light, green light, traffic cop | |
| Right turn, no turn, must turn, stop | |
| Get out the credit card honey, we're out of gas | |
| Well now, all the cars placed end to end | |
| Would reach to the moon and back again | |
| And there'd probably be some | |
| Fool pull out to pass | |
| Well now, how I yearn for the good old days | |
| Without that carbon monoxide haze | |
| A-hanging over the roar of the interstate | |
| Well if the Lord that made the moon and stars | |
| Would have meant for me and you to have cars | |
| He'd have seen that we was all born | |
| With a parking space | |
| {Chorus} | |
| Come away with me Lucille | |
| In my smoking, choking automobile |
| zuò qǔ : Feller | |
| Well, if you' re one of the millions who own one of them gasdrinking, pistonclinking, airpolluting, smokebelching, fourwheeled buggies from Detroit City, then pay attention. I' m about to sing your song son. | |
| Well, I' m not a man appointed judge | |
| To bear illwill and hold a grudge | |
| But I think it' s time I said me a few choice words | |
| All about that demon automobile | |
| A metal box with the polyglass wheel | |
| The end result to a dream of Henry Ford | |
| Well I' ve got a car that' s mine alone | |
| That me and the finance company own | |
| A readymade pile of manufactured grief | |
| And if I ain' t out of gas in the pouring rain | |
| I' m achangin' a flat in a hurricane | |
| I once spent three days lost on a cloverleaf | |
| Well it ain' t just the smoke and the traffic jam | |
| That makes me the bitter fool I am | |
| But this fourwheel buggy is | |
| Adollaring me to death | |
| For gas and oils and fluids and grease | |
| And wires and tires and anti freeze | |
| And them accessories | |
| Well honey, that' s something else | |
| Well you can get a stereo tape and a color TV | |
| Get a backseat bar and reclining seats | |
| And just pay once a month, like you do your rent | |
| Well I figured it up and over a period of time | |
| This four thousand dollar car of mine | |
| Costs fourteen thousand dollars | |
| And ninetynine cents, well now | |
| Chorus: | |
| Lord Mr. Ford, I just wish that you could see | |
| What your simple horseless carriage has become | |
| Well it seems your contribution to man | |
| To say the least, got a little out of hand | |
| Well Lord Mr. Ford what have you done | |
| Now the average American father and mother | |
| Own one whole car and half another | |
| And I bet that half a car is a | |
| Trick to buy, don' t you | |
| But the thing that amazes me, I guess | |
| Is the way we measure a man' s success | |
| By the kind of automobile he can afford to buy | |
| Well now, red light, green light, traffic cop | |
| Right turn, no turn, must turn, stop | |
| Get out the credit card honey, we' re out of gas | |
| Well now, all the cars placed end to end | |
| Would reach to the moon and back again | |
| And there' d probably be some | |
| Fool pull out to pass | |
| Well now, how I yearn for the good old days | |
| Without that carbon monoxide haze | |
| Ahanging over the roar of the interstate | |
| Well if the Lord that made the moon and stars | |
| Would have meant for me and you to have cars | |
| He' d have seen that we was all born | |
| With a parking space | |
| Chorus | |
| Come away with me Lucille | |
| In my smoking, choking automobile |