Verse 1: In a momenet of insanity I bought a motor car,
It causes much profanity and many a family jar.
I've spent a million dollars more or less to learn its tricks,
But when I try to run it, the blamed old buggy kicks.

Chorus: That Auto ought to go, 'Twill make a "bug" of me,
Unless I learn to run it, in Bloomingdale I'll be.
I've never found the reason that auto treats me so.
For with so much attention that blamed auto ought to go.

Verse 2: With a party of plump lady friends we started for a ride,
I had a stunning Gibson girl for a partner by my side.
When ev'ry thing looked bightet there seemed to be a hitch,
So I studied styles in hosiery as we landed in a ditch.

Chorus: That Auto ought to go, 'Twill make a "bug" of me,
Unless I learn to run it, in Bloomingdale I'll be.
I've never found the reason that auto treats me so.
For with so much attention that blamed auto ought to go.

Verse 3: We started for New Haven town on Sunday morn' at three,
The pesky thing broke down at five and left us up a tree.
One thousand little kids appeared who acted nice of course.
They yelled with all their might and main, "You lobster, get a horse."

Chorus: That Auto ought to go, 'Twill make a "bug" of me,
Unless I learn to run it, in the nut house I will be.
I've never found the reason that auto treats me so.
For with so much attention that blamed auto ought to go.