Old American Worker

A concrete sidewalk, and an old town house
Decorated by maple leaves to bring arouse
Painted by the sun, and a warm summer breeze
I walked under the shade of many maple tree's

My morning's were slow, but I always speed up
When I smell the sweetness of good maple syrup
Drizzled upon my pancakes, a good hardy meal
I was ready for my work on old automobiles

I punched in my time slip, and steam filled the air
From the compression of many machines, and good old flair
There was something to be had, when made by your hands
when you combine common knowledge, and knowingly understand

From morning till close I break things in
Connecting many idea's that would cause your head to spin
Making the locomotive, and pushing past limits
With the combustion of heat made it all the intimate

I was a creator of un-paralleled propulsion
But on a second note a man with very little compulsion
I loved solving riddles, and was known to be a philosopher
As I would sit on my porch in my gold leaf rocker

Living up the dream however we are to interpret
Freedom was an obsession, but you still must work for it
I walk under the shade of many maple tree's
because I created transportation, and now live a life at ease