Icy fingers up and down my spine

My head is full of lyrics;
I keep bursting into song
at the most inappropriate moments...
Do all brains work that way?
This one had me singing
along with Ella, and Marilyn;
Sammy Davis Jr, and Spike Jones;
Glen Miller, and Judy Garland;
Frank Sinatra, and The Marcels --
Can you hear it?

"That old black magic has me in its spell,
That old black magic that you weave so well;
Those icy fingers up and down my spine,
The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine..."

Were the men who designed this car
listening to that song
as they sat at their drafting tables?
Who was it that discovered
the sensuous possibilities of a machine?


* * *