Bright In The Corner
I've just finished cleaning my car.
It twinkles as bright as a star.
And now, when I go
On the highway, I know
I'll get it bespattered with tar.
I've used all my muscular powers,
I've scrubbed and I've polished for hours
But that'll be spoiled;
--If the road isn't oiled
I'll run into dust-storms or showers.
Or else--it's my usual luck--
I'll doubtless be ditched by a truck
And the shine of my paint
Will be something that ain't,
As it lies under inches of muck.
I'll park by the curb or the walk
While having a drink or a talk
And soe fresh little pup
Will mark everything up
With soap and with crayon and chalk.
And when I put up for the night
I know, in the morning, my sight
Will show more than hints
Of the greased finger-prints
In which all garagemen delight.
I've polished my car till its hue
Is brilliant and sparkling and new,
But I know in one day
It'll look just the way
That unwashed, neglected ones do!
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