Jerry Reed - vocal/guitar

Fred Carter Jr - guitar
Ray Edenton - rh.guitar
Roy Huskey - bass
Larrie Londin - drums
Hargus Pig Robbins - piano
Harold Ragsdale - vibes
Recorded 1973, RCA Victor Studio, Nashville

LORD MR. FORD
(Dick Feller)
« © '73 Vector Music »

Well now I'm not a man to point or judge to bury a will or hold a grudge
But I think it's time I said a few choice words
All about that demon the automobile a metal monster with the polyglass wheels
The end result of a dream of Henry Ford
Well now I've got a car that's mine alone that me and the finance company own
A ready made pile of manufactured grief
If I'm not out of gas in the pouring rain I'm changin' a flat in a hurricane
And I once spent three days lost on a clover leaf
Well it's not just the smoke or the traffic jam that makes me the bitter fool I am
But that four wheel buggy is dollarin' me to death
For gas and oil and fluids and grease and wires and tires and antifreeze
And them accesories well that's somethin' else
Well you can get stereo tape and color TV backseat bar and reclinin' seats
On top of those easy monthly payments
Well I figure that over a period of time this four thousand dollar car of mine
Cost fourteen thousand dollars and ninety nine cents
Well now Lord Mr Ford I just wish that you could see
What your single horseless carriage has become
Well it seems your contribution to man say the least got out of hand
Lord Mr Ford what have you done

Now the average American father and mother own one whole car and half of another
And I'll bet that half of a car is a bitch to drive
But the thing that amzes me I guess is the way we measure a man's success
By the kind of automobile he can afford to buy
Well now red light green light traffic cop right turn no turn must turn stop
Get out the credit card honey we're out of gas
Well now all the cars placed in the end would reach to the moon and back again
And there'd probably be some poor fools out to pass

Well now I yearn for the good old days without that carbon dioxide haze
A hangin' over that roar on the interstates
Well if the Lord that made the moon and stars
Would've meant for me and you to have cars
He'd've seen that we were born with a parkin' space
Well Lord Mr Ford...
Come away with me Lucille in my smokin' chokin' automobile
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