Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Four Wheel Drive, artist - C.W. McCall. Date of issue: 31.12.1989
Song language: English
Four Wheel Drive |
| We is screamin’through the valley |
| Where the Nishnabotna flows |
| Through the mud and crud and cornfields |
| Where the mari-ju-wana grows |
| 'Cross the railroad tracks of Persia |
| Down the hills and up the dale |
| Had a CJ-5 with a four-wheel drive |
| And Smokey on my tail. |
| Well, he picked me up at exit 12 |
| On the I-six-eighty ramp |
| I was doin'67 per |
| When I rumbled through his trap |
| He commenced to whirl his flashin’lights |
| And he made his siren wail |
| I slipped on down to four-wheel drive |
| With Smokey on my tail |
| Now I got racin’stripes and dual pipes |
| And Smokey’s got a Ford |
| Got a mill with a four pot carb, you know |
| But Smokey’s stroked and bored |
| Well, the chase was on, but I had the edge |
| With a rig that’ll never fail |
| Got a CJ-5 with a four-wheel drive |
| And Smokey on my tail |
| Yeah, he was. |
| Well, I dropped on down to granny low |
| And I made a hard right turn |
| My big ol’fat Commando tires |
| Went slashin’through the corn |
| Well, the tassels blew |
| And the kernels flew |
| And it looked like yella hail |
| Just cookin’alive in a four-wheel drive |
| With Smokey on my tail |
| Well, we went screamin’through the valley |
| Where the Nishnabotna flows |
| Through the mud and crud and cornfields |
| Where the mari-ju-wana grows |
| 'Cross the railroad tracks of Persia |
| Up the hills and down the dales |
| My CJ-5 with four-wheel drive |
| And Smokey on my tail. |
| Look out, now. |
| Here he come. |
| Oh, we gonna get it on now. |
| (Don't hit that fella with the banjo.) |
| We gonna swim this here creek now, Smokey. |
| Yard wide and a foot deep. |
| «Nishnabota River», they call it. |
| Might haveta winch out. |
| Gonna do a wheelie on that there gopher mound now, Smokey. |
| Can you dig it, Smokey? |
| Got four on the floor and four in the air on that one, didn’t we? |
| Goodness gracious. |
| 'Bout ta bust my shocks. |
| Well, that Jeep of mine made Smokey whine |
| His rig was made of lead |
| He was mired in fourteen feet of mud |
| So he radioed ahead |
| I pulled up onto the blacktop |
| Went crashin’on through the rail |
| Sakes alive! |
| I had twenty-five more |
| Smokeys on my tail! |
| Now I had racin’stripes and dual pipes |
| And Smokey had a Ford |
| Had a mill with a four pot carb, you know |
| But Smokey’s stroked and bored |
| Well, the race was on, but I had the edge |
| With a rig that’ll never fail |
| Got a CJ-5 with a four-wheel drive |
| Settin’out back a’the jail |