From The Topeka State Journal, September 4, 1914. By Roy K. Moulton.
Some years ago my father drove an ancient piebald mare,
And when he met a motor car he’d scowl at it and glare.
Would he turn out? No, not a bit. He’d try to hog the road.
When they would ask him to give way he’d yell, “I’ve got a load!”
His hatred for the gas machines was unrelenting, quite.
It was a mania with him; he talked it day and night.
He said that any feller who would drive one was a fool;
For father was a backward man, who followed the old school.
But things have changed since then a bit. Although for years he roared
About the gol-dum devil carts, he’s gone and bought a Ford.
He beats it round the countryside at thirty miles an hour,
And when an old horse heaves in sight he crowds on all his power.
He nearly busts with anger when he wants the right of way,
And hollers, “For the love of Mike, lay over there, you jay!”
He’s got the latest fol-de-rols, green goggles and the like;
He is the greatest motor fiend who ambles down the pike.
It’s just the same old story. Yes, indeed, it’s nothing new.
The war of horse and car depends upon the point of view.