My Baby Car

I have a silvery Rolls Royce
And in its beauty I rejoice
But oh with what a cheery shout
I hail my little runabout.

My chauffeur has a uniform
And holds a baby car in scorn;
But let him sneer and jeer and flout,
Give me my dinky runabout.

It's sweet and neat and fighting fit;
I fuss and fiddle over it;
It's sleek  and shiny as a trout
My nippy, whippy runabout.

Although it's only six horse power
I do my sixty miles and hour;
On mountain steeps its heart is stout:
None daunt my dogged runabout.

Oh! It is good at eighty five,
Even a baby car to drive,
And though I have a touch of gout
I won't give up my runabout.

They say that second childhood must
Have toys to treasure - mine, I trust,
Till life at last shall fizzle out,
Will be my faithful runabout.