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Show MAUD MULLER UP TO DATE Maud Muller, on a summer's day, Raked the meadows sweet with hay. And as she raked in the early morn, She heard the honk of a Klaxon horn. Anon there drifted on the scene A car propelled by gasoline. The judge rolled up in his motor car And said to Maud: "Ah, there you are!" He killed his engine in the shade Of the apple tree, "to chin the maid. He spoke of the mileage on his tires, As is the way with all good liars. He said his car was quite the best ' And had the edge on all the rest. He invited Maud to take a ride And, nothing loth, she jumped inside. The judge from a purling brooklet drank. And forthwith started in to crank. He cranked and cranked till his arm was sore, Then started in and cranked some ' more. He cranked and cranked till he reeked reek-ed with sweat, And cranked till after the sun had set. He cranked away with a right good will. And, chances are he's cranking still. And of all devices with which we're cursed The auto crack is about the worst. a |