Well, Lucille was a woman and I was a boy
|
And it was obvious that she wanted more
|
Than a man her age could give her
|
And that was me
|
I was wild as a summer squall
|
Blowin' through town no direction at all
|
I was wilder than even she could believe
|
I had Cobra Jet 428
|
In a '65 Ford
|
And it ran great
|
Take it on out to where that gravel turns to road
|
Take it on up to 110
|
Tires screaming in and out of the bends
|
And Lucille hanging on just as tight as she could
|
And it was crazy
|
But it sure was good
|
Well, Lucille was fifty and I was nineteen
|
And you know it never bothered me
|
Not even when they called out in the bar
|
I'd get tough and I'd bust some heads
|
Lucille would laugh when the cops got there
|
We'd sneak out the back and take off in my car
|
I had a Cobra Jet 428
|
In a '65 Ford
|
And it ran great
|
Take it on out to where that gravel turns to road
|
Take it on up to 110
|
Tires screaming in and out of the bends
|
And Lucille hanging on just as tight as she could
|
And it was crazy
|
But it sure was good
|
Well, last week I turned forty-five
|
When I woke up
|
Well, out in the driveway
|
My wife had fixed that old car up for me
|
She'd had it in the garage for a week or two
|
And when I got it back it was good as new
|
I started it up and I took off down the highway
|
I drove on up to Randolph Heights
|
There's an old folk's home there past the lights
|
And Lucille sitting out there in the shade
|
I wheeled her around to the passenger door
|
I picked her up and put her in that car
|
And we took off like a dust bowl hurricane
|
And that Cobra Jet 428
|
And that '65 Ford well it ran great
|
Took it on out to where that gravel turns to road
|
Took it on up to 110
|
Tires screaming in and out of the bend
|
And Lucille hanging on just as tight as she could
|
And it was crazy
|
But it sure was good
|
|
-----------------
|
Lucille
|
| Fred Eaglesmith |
