From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 171-172.
SHOW YOUR COLORS
The autos glide on streets and strands
The Henries and the other brands.
Of these machines I meet a host,
And though I dodge as spry as most,
I often rise from where I’m flung
With bitter words upon my tongue;
And having dusted off my clothes
Once more to Congress I propose
Some colored tags to show who drives
That men may flee and save their lives,
Tags uniform for all the nation
And furnishing some indication
Of what we may expect to meet
When folks come tooting up the street.
The driver with his first machine
Shall sport a license tag of green.
When he has hit and maimed a few
We’ll change the same to black and blue,
While he who leaves a victim dead
Henceforth shall wear a tag of red.
But O, the lad who drives aright,
Is safe and sane and eke polite
Shall earn a number plate of white.
[172]
And when at last he sprouts his wings,
To welcome him from earthly things
A shining angel crew shall hem
The walls of New Jerusalem.
Right careful of his Lizzie’s rim,
Lest he should bump the cherubim,
He’ll flivver up the golden street
And shake the hand of good Saint Pete.