Up on Oak Creek, on a back road dusty
Lived a Polish boy named Bob Werkosky,

My aunt and others came walking through the trees
Taking a shortcut, saw a Model T

Coming 'round the bend, with a yaw and a pitch,
Off the road and across the ditch

Bob was taking a turn at the wheel
Driving in the thirties, unlicensed still…

Ran into a pine tree with a smack,
About three times, and bounced right back

Bob kept on chuggin' and hitting that tree,
Thought no one saw him, repeatedly

Lurching back and hitting it again…
Finally stalling the machine's engine,

When the kids all laughed at Bob's abortive spin,
He quickly said with a silly, sheepish grin,

"Well, I sure enough stopped it, quick as I could,"
Yeah, right! young sir, better knock on wood.

by D. Edgar Murray