(Gillian WelchDavid Rawlings)
Mr. Smith had an oldsmobile
Baby blue with them wire wheels
I took her home the day that she was adverstised
He said she leaked when, it would rain
And sounded like an aeroplane
But I knew she was a jewel in disguise
She had a 455 Rocket
The biggest block alive
I couldn't hardly wait just to take my turn
She was made for the straight aways
She grew up hating Chevrolets
She's a Rocket, she was made to burn
Whose junkpile piece of Chevelle is this?
You boys come here to race or just kiss?
Don't you wanna know what I got underneath my hood?
I know she might sound like she's missing
But buddy, she could teach you a lesson
In just a quater mile, and I'll smoke you good
In my 455 Rocket
The kind the police drive
I couldn't hardly wait just to take my turn
She was made for the straight aways
She grew up hating Chevrolets
She's a Rocket, she was made to burn
I'm telling you and I ain't ashamed
I cried when that wrecker came
As we skid I thought I heard the angels sing (sounded like the Beach Boys)
We hit the curve and began to sail
Took out most of the safety rail
Even the cop asked me