Road: A Hymn to the Highway

What's the use of backwoods trail ways,
Soggy, boggy, slug- and snail-ways,
Overgrown and muddy, stale ways,
Home of leech and toad?

What's the use of trusting airlines,
"Someday we may get you there" lines,
Planes whose wings are cracked in hairlines?
Better far is road!

Road beneath your tires,
Road that's free of mires!
Mapped and planned across the land,
You're master of your fate, whate'er transpires!

Travel my way, drive the highway,
And, unless you take a rural byway,
You will always find a dry way
Underneath your load.

Ships that sail upon the ocean
Have a queasy, wavy motion
That will leave you craving potion
Good for mal de mer.

If you go by way of railroads,
You must go the way the rail goes.
Almost anywhere the mail goes,
Road will take you there.

Sea lanes, plague upon you!
Iron horse, begone, you!
Paven way, uphold us, pray,
You peregrinal peerless paragon, you!

Except for crazies, jams, delays,
Tolls, potholes, accidents, detours, one-ways,
And speed traps, all our driving days
Will be secure from care.