Jim Croce - Speedball Tucker Lyrics
I drive a broke-down rig on may-pop tires 40 foot of overloadLotta people say that I'm crazy because I don't know how to take it slowI got a broomstick on the throttle, I gotta rope it up and head right downNon-stop back to Dallas poppin' them west coast turnaroundsCHORUSAnd they call me Speedball, Speedball Tucker,terror of the highway and all them other truckerswill tell you that the boy is madto be drivin' in a rig like thatYou know the rain may blow, snow may snow, and the turnpikes they may freezeBut that don't bother ol' Speedball, he goin' any damn way he pleaseHe got a broomstick on the throttle to keep his throttle foot a-dancin' 'roundWith a cupful of cold, black coffee, and a pocketful of west Coast turnaroundsCHORUSOne day I looked into my rear-view mirror, and comin' up from behindWas a Georgia state policeman, and a hundred dollar fineWell, he looked me in the eye as he was writin' me up,he said, driver you been flyin'And 95 was the route you was on, it was not the speed limit signCHORUSCHORUS
