5021 Peg Street, Boise, Idaho 83705
After a hard day when I'm really tired,
There's a sure thing that'll get me fired.
I head for the garage with key in hand,
Throw open the doors and there they stand.
Several old engines of years gone by,
All sizes and shapes, they meet my eye.
I pull one out upon its cart,
And give it a crank and choke to start.
Adjust the fuel mixture and the drip oiler,
Then step back to watch the old toiler.
Its color is green or red or blue,
Called Maytag or Deere or Fairbanks too.
With movement of rods and gears and ignitors,
And flywheels that spin just like an old spider.
I can sit and watch those flywheels go round,
And hear that old lunger make a distinctive sound.
I'll tell you folks it's plain to see,
Those sights and sounds are like therapy to me.
They'll do what pills and potions won't do,
It's Gas Engine Therapy I'm tellin' you.
So here's my prescription, I won't charge a thing,
It works every time, so give it a fling.