Jon Hanson songs
© 2008 Jon Hanson
The easy part about this story is, it is true; from 34 years ago. This is something I did when I first started writing, one chord, no structure, but friends keep requesting it, I plan to straighten it out and rewrite as a Charlie Daniels style talkie. I am sorry I can't remember the singers name, Steven Howell I think. I have a newer version I need to get recorded that has a better rhyme scheme and should work. But this presents the idea.
Yep, It’s a Hemi
I was broke and seventeen in ‘74
Killin’ time at the local Ford store
They had a 69 Dodge Super Bee—I’d buy if I could
Hemi Orange ‘an a flat black-six-pack-hood
The salesman said do you want to take it for a spin?
I looked behind me thinking he must be kidding
But he grabbed a D-tag and flipped me the key
And hopped in the passenger seat right next to me
I eased onto Main Street cruising in low gear
Cranking my head and looking everywhere
Mr. Salesman said, “Whatcha lookin’ for?
Cops! I said as I mashed it to the floor!
The Bee stood-up and made that super stock sound
Three green lights ahead no way I’m shuttin’ down
I could just see over edge of that big hood scoop
An’ when I hit second gear I smelled salesman-poop
Two more lights! So I snagged gear three ‘bout light two
The salesman was moanin’ and groanin’ and biting his tongue
And then came the profanity;
Shameful really, in front of me-so-young!?
The salesman’s screaming something about a yellow light! Tommy Roe's on the radio top of third, I'm Jam up and Jelly tight
At 92 a redlight ticket is only a bit more
So I pistol whipped that Hemi-she-devil into gear four
I was rolling east with random cars goin’ north and south
The thought of dying made me a little dry in the mouth
So I let off the gas and started gearing down
Hoping to stop before I hit Tomato Town
Back at the lot. Mr. Salesman didn’t say a word
He just walked away Mumbling was all I heard
At 17 I had more testosterone than brains
I never saw Mr. Salesman again—I doubt he cares
All I know is one man’s Hemi-dreams
Are another man’s Hemi-nightmares
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