Racing in the night he was
He was driving his pride and joy
Late at night it certainly was
For this car full of rowdy boys
A black Chevelle; he now drove
A four-speed shifter on the floor
Three hundred seventy-five horses
Who could ask for anything more
Around a blind corner, he flew
Something was standing on the road
The brakes, he locked them up
The fear on his face, it showed
Out of control, he swerved
And into the object, he plowed
It lifted its head and mooed
It was a huge black Angus cow
The cow, it met its maker
The Chevelle; was a total loss
The driver went to the hospital
The farmer calculated the cost
Because of a farmer’s broken fence
His pride and joy was gone
Now those roads he doesn’t drive
Especially between dusk and dawn
Monday, June 20, 2022